The 102nd Hunger Games
by SongWriter18
Summary: My first ever Hunger Games Fanfiction. The Hunger Games have been going on for 102nd years, and this year is full of surprises. Love, loss, betrayal and lying. Who will win? Read to find out!


1:

The Capitol

Saphire Troy avoided the eyes of the boy beside her. He was awfully beautiful, and she couldn't believe she'd never truly noticed him before. His golden brown eyes were locked on her. She was unnerved; was he sizing her up to find which way to kill her? Or was he just looking at her?

The boy, Scott Daze, was a year older than her, and, by the looks of it, had been training to be a Career since he was nine. His muscles bulged from underneath his shirt, but against his size, his face was soft. Somehow, this made her feel better. She looked up at him, for the first time meeting his eyes.

"You a Career? Are we allies?"  
>Scott looked down at her. "Yep."<p>

Juan Pierre could not be going into the games. He could not hurt anyone, and would not. He refused. The girl next to him glowered at him, a cool expression on her face. He could tell she did not want to kill anyone, but was prepared to fight for her life.

On the screen, he stared at Perry Leeman. This, he was sure, was not someone to trust. He had a deceitful smile on his face, though was not the most muscular of tributes. He had several bruises and cuts on his face, making Juan wonder where he got them.

But still, he would not kill anyone.

Rebecca Smith and Drew Lancaster sat side by side, at ease. They were Careers, trained and prepared to go into the games. And they were allies. Both ignored the fact that one of them would have to die for the other to win; their eyes were locked on the screen, examining their competitors.

Both of the tributes two would be good allies, they were strong and well built, they seemed ready for the games. The two from district three were weak and scrawny, easy kills. The girl from four would be a great ally, but the boy was no Career.

The girl from five was muscular, but still not Career material. The boy volunteered, but his reasons seemed different than Rebecca's and Drew's. The girl from six was tall but not well built; the boy had a cunning look on his face. Those from seven were a little better built, but not much. The two from eight were young and scared, and those from nine would be no threat at all. The boy from ten would be a bit more challenging. The girl from eleven broke down in tears when her name was called, she would be easy, as would the girl from twelve. The guy from eleven volunteered, but the boy from twelve was tiny, with a squeaky voice. Drew snorted. _Wimp!_ He thought. Just as the Capitol Anthem ceased, the train rolled into the station.

Irene Lions stared at the world around her, not believing her eyes. Every inch of the Capitol shined and sparkled, technology was everywhere. At home, in the Seam, coal dust was covering the roofs, the ground, her blonde hair, making it seem grey. The buildings were slowly falling apart, tilting precariously on their foundations.

Here in the Capitol, a flourish of smells wafted around, and the din was deafening even through the glass. Huge buildings dominated the skyline, touching the fluffy white clouds. All the people she saw through the blacked-out windows had brightly colored hair, strange tattoos, implants, and the strangest clothes she'd ever seen. She knew not what the arena would be like, but she knew it was going to be nothing like this.

Training went by in a flash for Collista Roseline. She was one of the smallest ones there. The only thing that kept her together was Daniel's hand in her own. The fool! He had volunteered in Robbie Dunkin's place so he could protect her. If he hadn't done so, they could have had at least a chance to stay together!

Tears seeped out of her large blue eyes as Daniel led her to the camouflage station. She only had days left with him before they were thrown into the arena. But they would be allies. Oh yes, the entire time they were in the Games he would be there by her side, holding her hand to keep her in one piece.

Before she knew it, the Gamemakers had started calling tributes in for their training scores.

Clearose Smith grasped Dalton's hand as the training scores appeared. As expected, the Careers all got eights through elevens. The pair from three got twos. The boy from four got a five. Then Clearose's number was flashing; nine. That was pretty good! Then Dalton got the same number! The two from six got eights, the girl from seven got a seven, and the boy got a one. That was the worst you could get!

The siblings from eight both scored sixes, while both from nine got twos, as did the girl from ten. The boy scored a seven, as did the boy from eleven. The girl from eleven got a four, the girl from twelve scored a six, and the boy got a two.

Then, their mentors ordered them to bed for the interviews in the morning.

Perry Leeman didn't even pay attention to the interviews. All he remembered was when the girl from eleven broke down in tears, and when the boy from eight got the entire Capitol crowd to bawl when he said how much he loved his sister, Rosie, who was also going into the games. He was just ready to get into the arena and let out his anger.

Perry Leeman was not a quitter. If he was, he would be dead by now. There was nothing waiting for him back home except pain and sadness. But he was a fighter, and he would win. He would show his parents he wasn't the worthless piece of crap they thought he was.

He felt the scars on his face, reliving the blows that put them there. He could take pain better than any of the others, even the Careers. They could put him in the arena, but the Capitol could not destroy Perry Leeman.

2:

The Bloodbath

Rosie Montreal stared at the clothes her stylist held. The ruffled white silk blouse and black pants seemed like they would bite her. This was not the usual kind of outfit, though there had been some like it before. She supposed it was better than a dress, or a parka that would imply the arena being a blizzard. The ensemble wasn't actually that bad. The shoes were jet black tennis-shoes, fit for running, though they looked like dress shoes from a distance.

Rosie slipped on the clothes, took a last longing sip of water, and stepped into the glass tube that would bring her to the arena. She wondered where her brother was, with a fleeting though. In just seconds, they would be in the arena. How much longer would she be able to protect Joey?

Scott Daze rose up to the arena in the claustrophobic tube, squirming. The white dress shirt and black pants he wore were comfortable enough, and the dressy tennis-shoes would be fine; but he knew nothing of what this arena could be. It could really be anything. One thing that eased his mind was that he had four strong allies, and Saphire would be safe for now. But still, he hoped it would not come down to them two.

He wanted to win, he needed the money for his sister Lexi's surgery, but he didn't want Saphire to die. With these thoughts on his mind, the plate he stood on clicked into place.

The first thing he registered was the pools of color. Four enormous stain-glass windows filtered in a dull light, turning the dust motes into rainbows. The floor underneath his feet was old, cracked wood, with little carpets strewn about. He looked around. In front of him, was a giant golden horn; the cornucopia. Inside it, he saw an uncountable array of knives, many swords, and tons of daggers.

He spotted about three bows, many spears and a few clubs and maces towards the middle of the cornucopia, lying there precious as diamonds. On top of that, there were several other necessities for survival, including many backpacks that could contain anything. A voice boomed out from invisible speakers, rattling Scott's brain inside his head.

"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the 102nd annual Hunger Games!"

Scott now looked at his competitors. He could not find Saphire, and he started to get worried until he realized the cornucopia must be in between them. Next to him was Drew Lancaster, his ally, so he didn't need to worry about that. On his other side was the tiny boy from three. His bland eyes were glazed with worry. He spotted several of his other allies, and had just set his sights on a long, silver sword in the heart of the cornucopia when the gong rang out.

Before Scott had even stepped off his plate, three tributes darted forward, grabbing the first things they found, and ran off through the ancient wood doorways Scott hadn't noticed. The Career ran forward and grabbed the sword before anyone else. He heard someone approaching him from behind, and swung.

His sword sliced through the boy from three before he even had a chance to scream. Beside him, Drew Lancaster had grabbed five knives and had the boy from nine, who had some ridiculous name, in a headlock. With a jerk of his arms, the boy fell still.

Alex Snare had three spears in her hands, and killed the girl from ten without a second thought.

Scott spotted Saphire a few meters away from him, who had gotten her hands on a golden bow with about twenty-four arrows, about three knives, and a sword. The girl had taken out two tributes before Scott had even blinked. _Yes. _Scott thought. _Let the Hunger Games begin._

Joey Montreal grabbed a small black backpack and a bag resembling a lunchbox within seconds. Because he couldn't stand not having a weapon, he grabbed a sharp knife with a leather handle and slid it into his belt. He called out for his sister desperately. He spotted her small figure darting about, her blonde hair swinging wildly. She had seized a few daggers and was running towards him.

Rosie dodged a spear from Rebecca Smith, and narrowly missed Drew Lancaster as he reached out to grab her by the neck. As she stooped down quickly to grab a green bag, Joey screamed out her name.

Saphire Troy, the Career from two, had pulled back the string of her golden bow, and her next target was Rosie.

Rosie turned, and as she did, the arrow pierced her side, cutting straight through her.

Joey watched as she fell to the ground, her body convulsing, the arrow's tip peeking out from her other side. Her body was bleeding, bleeding. The crimson liquid pooled around her, making Joey gag. As the body shook, that was all it was anymore… a body. Because that was all that was left of his sister.

The boy cried out in pain, then fire seemed to burn behind his almond-shaped brown eyes. He wanted the girl who had killed his sister to suffer. With a small effort, he pulled out the small dagger in his belt and launched it at the back of Saphire's head.

With another flash of metal, a monstrous boy slashed with his sword. Joey expected to see a gash appear in the girl, to see her body fall and pool with blood as his sister's had. Instead, he heard a great _clang! _As his knife fell to the floor. The boy had deflected his blade.

Joey had no more energy to kill. He wanted to run out of the room like the child he was, crying. But he would win for his sister. Yes, he would. He ran forward, snatched up three knives, and sprinted for the doors.

Alex Snare snatched up another spear, launching it at the boy from twelve. Instantly, his body fell, a spear through his head like a stick running from his ears. Without seeing the blood and convulsing that was sure to come, she turned, trying desperately to find another target. But there were none more, as her ally, Scott Daze, had just killed the girl from nine with a giant, deadly swipe of his sword. The rest had run from the room, off to some unknown place in the arena.

The Careers all backed away, up to a wall with a golden cross on it and a black marble statue of a saint. So was that what this place was? A church?

As they shuffled away, and all sounds had stopped, the first cannon rang out, then another. In all, there were eight cannon shots, eight tributes dead, only fifteen more to go until she won. The hovercrafts came, a hole opening up in the roof to let the eight claws drop down and collect the bodies.

Then, the Careers walked forward, collecting and organizing weapons and food, then supplies. Alex grabbed several knives, sliding them into her belt. She grabbed a backpack and put several extra spearheads in it, then a small loaf of bread and some Capitol-made cheese, and a water canteen.

As someone had to take charge, Alex naturally wanted to lead. She was about to say something when Rebecca Smith stepped forward, making a box into a platform. "We should send someone to go check out the rest of the arena, see what it is like."

Alex mentally growled, she didn't much like Rebecca. The girl had better watch out if she didn't want a spear through her head like the boy from twelve.

The Careers nodded, and Saphire Troy stepped forward. "I'll go."

The boy from two, Scott Daze, stepped forward also. "I'll go with you."

Alex half-shoved Rebecca off of the box, taking over. "Yes, we need to stay together. There are five of us, so Drew, Rebecca and I will stay here. Saphire, you and Scott go check out the arena. Stay alive and kill off anyone you come across, even if you think they'd be a good ally. Steal whatever they have and come back here."

Scott and Saphire nodded, then rushed out of the room.

Juan ran about the giant church, trying to find a place to hide. The boy from six had run into him a few moments ago and slyly said they could be allies. But Juan, seeing an evil glint in his eye, didn't want this boy as an ally, for it would positively get him a knife in the back.

After Juan had refused, Perry had turned savage. He had pulled a wicked dagger from his pack and positioned it at Juan, cursing him. At this point, Juan had turned, pulling his bag to cover his head as he ran as fast as he could. He had darted through several hallways with high, arched ceilings and marble statues whose eyes followed him, but still was not settled from his worry enough to stop and rest.

Whenever Juan turned, he seemed to lose the path he'd been on, as if the halls themselves were moving. He felt as if he were going in circles, but never once saw the same statue twice. The small boy heard feet pounding behind him, and looked around desperately for a place to hide. He spotted a high arched window with dark, long curtains.

Juan pushed himself onto the window pane and climbed up a ways, until he found a good platform. He hid his body with the curtain just as the feet thundered to a stop.

Clearose and Dalton rushed about, turning sharp corners and sprinting down hallways, trying to lose the pair behind them. They were weaponless, only possessing a small backpack and some rotten apples they'd found a while back. They never once broke their handhold, as it seemed to tether them to life itself. Soon, Clearose thought, they'd run into a door that would take them out of this awful place.

The tapestries on the walls were old and faded, except the eyes. The eyes followed them down the halls, mocking them. The dull green carpet under their feet did little to muffle their pounding footsteps as they ran, and the church smelled of mothballs and dead people.

Up ahead, Clearose imagined a light, a thin light as one of something coming out of a door. Then, she realized it wasn't a light. Was it truly a door? Would it lead them to more horrors or food and rest? As they got closer, Clearose realized it wasn't a door at all. It was a dead-end.

Only then did the girl register the footsteps behind her. They hadn't lost the two from eleven as they'd hoped. As she looked around frantically, she found no other halls.

They were trapped.

Chapter 3:

Allies and (Dis)Arming

Rebecca Smith sat in the midst of the supplies left over from the bloodbath, sharpening her knives. The wretched Alex Snare had attempted to take her spot as leader of the Careers, but Rebecca wasn't about to let that happen.

The Career struck her knives again, the metal clinging loudly. And although she was in the Hunger Games, Rebecca didn't care if she made noise. Let the others come. Let them come right here where she had heaps of knives, spears, and other weapons at her disposal. She would welcome it if they came. It was just sooner that she could win, be famous, get rich, and go to an exquisite home in the Victor Village.

Rebecca chewed on a piece of Capitol bread with cheese, and glared across the room at Alex. Nothing could stop her from winning these games. Nothing.

Skyler Grey walked through the maze of halls, three knives nestled in her belt, a simple wooden bow in her hands. A yellow bag was slung over her shoulder, and she had a creepy feeling about this church.

Sky's stomach growled with hunger, her tongue was plump with dryness. She needed desperately for some food and water, and wondered if there was a kitchen in this cathedral.

The girl jumped as a mouse scurried across the floorboards at her feet, but then Sky smiled. Mice were known to steal their food, so there _had _to be a kitchen unless this mouse was some sort of demon-mutt. Sky rushed after the creature, her feet pounding.

Soon, the miniature creature lost her, and Sky went back to wandering. After what seemed like hours, Sky began to slow down, her famine and thirst catching up to her. But, when she came across two mouse holes, her hopes lifted again. When she found a giant wooden door with white paint that was chipping all over, she didn't wait at all to push it open.

Ella Clearwater ran around, her entire body quaking with fear. She twirled her usual ponytail and fingered the single blade she had gotten. With all her hopes, going into the games, she had wished for a bow, but the closest bow to her had been taken by the girl from seven. The other bows had been too far inside the cornucopia. So she had grabbed a knife and run out.

While Ella was immersed in her thoughts, she did not recognize that footsteps were pounding down the corridor, towards her. Ella shrunk back against the wall, holding the knife in her hand uncomfortably.

A silhouette approached Ella, soon a tiny boy came into sight.

His tousled brown hair matched his dark eyes, and his face was still plump with baby fat. He had a backpack slung over his shoulder, and a sack in one hand. Three wicked knives were slung into his belt, and his chest heaved as if he'd just run a marathon. The boy's eyes were slightly pink around the edges, as if he'd been crying.

Seeing this boy, Ella's heart immediately melted. She stepped out of the shadows.

The boy, who Ella now recognized as Joey Montreal from eight, tensed, dropping his sack and brandishing a knife. "Stay back!" Joey said. "I don't want to hurt you, but I will if I have to."

Ella put up her hands, sliding her knife back in her belt. "I don't want a fight here. C'mon, we could be allies you know!" She said eagerly.

Joey's eyes narrowed and he looked at Ella, her innocent eyes, the knife in her belt, far from her hands, and vulnerable face, her auburn hair pulled away with a simple hair band. Then, the boy smiled and lowered his hand. He sighed in relief.

"Thanks, but we need a place to crash, this won't do."

Ella nodded. "Let get a move on."

Piggy Norton ran through the halls, his spear tightly gripped in his hands. He had a second spear strapped on his back, and a few knives in his belt. His green eyes swept the halls, taking in every detail just as he did with the work at home. His mind ran over his girlfriend, making him angry and sad.

Right before the reaping, she broke up with him, leaving Piggy depressed even before he knew he would be in the games. Then, after he was reaped, she caught up with him in the Justice Building, fake tears running down her cheeks.

"_Oh, Piggy, I'm so sorry! I couldn't bear it if you… didn't win. If you get back, would you consider being my boyfriend again?" _She sobbed.

Piggy had said he'd _consider _it, feeling there was some other reason she had wanted to get back together with him.

Suddenly, a crash and feet pounding alerted Piggy. He tensed, gripping his spear, until he ran head-on into the boy.

Collista Roseline rushed down the hall, gripping Daniel's hand. But not because she was weak. She needed to know for herself that he was still alive. Her dark hair billowed behind her as they chased down the couple from five.

Collista wielded a knife in front of her, and Daniel held a spear in the hand that was not intertwined with hers. They had run into Clea and Dalton a while back, and found the two unarmed. They had immediately attempted to kill the two, but as they were grabbing their weapons, Clea and Dalton had run, getting a head start.

Collista soon noticed two shadows up ahead, they had finally caught up to their opponents.

Clea and Dalton were huddled against the wall, enfolded in each other's arms. As Collista and her companion approached, the other pair shared a small kiss.

"Just make it quick, will you?" Clearose whimpered.

Collista walked forward, and seeing their fear, lowered her knife slightly. But she wouldn't give her a cruel death as she'd seen so many times before. She would make it quick.

Sauntering forward, Collista put her knife blade against Clearose's throat, and the girl closed her eyes, squeezing her boyfriend's hand.

Collista began pushing her dagger into her rival's windpipe, until a hand closed around her wrist.

"Wait!" Dalton cried. "Please, please. I-I'm good at close combat, and spears, and Clea can use a dagger and a bow. Please, could we be allies? We could benefit you!"

Collista looked at the couple, then at Daniel. She lowered her blade. "Sure.

Perry sauntered around the corridors, ready to kill. He was annoyed at himself for letting the boy from seven slip through his fingers. He had suggested they be allies, planning to kill him when he was asleep. But the paranoid boy had refused and run away.

The deceitful teenager found a wooden table and sat on it, laying his sword next to him and taking the chance to look at his backpack. He had some dried fruit, a small loaf of bread, a blanket, and a small bracelet.

Perry looked at the wristlet, unsure what it could be. He slid it on, finding a small red gem. He rubbed his finger over the stone, then pushed it. There was a small clicking sound, and a quiet buzzing began.

Perry moved his hand, trying to see what the bracelet was meant to do, when he saw a glint of color and turned rapidly, expecting a fight. Instead, he found a gleaming silver sword floating in the air.

The boy's heart pounded in his chest. Was this an enemy with powers of invisibility? He'd seen games where the Game makers gave tributes magical-seeming powers. He moved his arm to grab his sword, and the blade in front of him moved. He realized his sword was gone.

No, not gone. It was floating in front of him.

Perry smiled. He had found a disarming bracelet.

Chapter 4:

Treason and True Love

Saphire Troy scouted the halls, awkwardly accompanied Scott Daze. She felt his eyes on her again and felt her face flood with heat.

"What are you thinking about right now?" He asked softly.

Saphire's emerald eyes met Scott's topaz ones and she found herself unable to ignore him. She stopped walking to talk to him face to face.

"I wanted to thank you for saving my life back there. If it weren't for you, I'd be bled out; pale white with a knife through my skull on my way back home in a wooden box," Saphire admitted; startling herself for she had not been thinking that at all.

Scott shivered then smiled meekly. "I couldn't very well let you die when it was in my power to save you."

"Why not? And don't say it's just because I'm your ally. You don't need me, I'm not that strong an ally, and you would just be one step closer to getting home. Don't you want to win?"

Scott sighed and wiped off a frost-covered window to look through it longingly. "I don't know."

"How do you not know?"

The boy looked down into Saphire's eyes. "I want to win so my sister Lexi can have surgery to live, but I don't want to win if it means you have to die."

Saphire was startled. She and Scott had known each other alright, but it wasn't as if they were good friends.

Scott must've seen the confusion on her face. "Saphire," he said. "I love you."

Irene Lions tiptoed over the moth-eaten carpet, her blond hair glinting in the dim light. She had a short, wicked sword that could almost be mistaken for a knife in her hand, and a second one in her belt. She also had a backpack containing some water, a first aid kit, some apples, a banana and a blanket.

Irene figured she was better off than most of the other tributes, though she wished she could find some wood and make a bow, the only three in the arena had been taken from the cornucopia.

After what Irene assumed was several hours, she came across an intersection. On the right, there was a short, thin hallway leading to a small cavern, on the left a long, dark, winding hallway that could hold anything… especially mutts. After a lot of consideration, the girl opted for the cavern.

She walked to the right to find it wasn't a cavern, it was an entrance hall. There was an enormous oak door at one end.

Irene pushed at the door, and it creaked open to a field with a variety of plants. To her right, there was a willow tree, but it wouldn't be fit to stay in or make a bow. She climbed the tree anyway, glancing over the battered roof of the church. There, a small ways across the roof was a courtyard, with several trees soaring into the purple sky.

Irene smiled. If she could just get to those trees, she'd be fit to survive.

The girl vaulted herself over onto the flat roof and walked across the covering. Suddenly, she lost her footing and pummeled across the panels down to earth.

Juan Pierre crouched behind the curtains, his heart pounding, fifteen feet between him and the ground. Dust covered the window pane, making it hard to grip. Underneath him, a group of four people had decided to make camp. By the sounds of it, there were two boys and two girls.

"What do you guys have for weapons and supplies?" One girl asked.

"We have some rotten apples, a small loaf of bread, a water canteen, a flashlight and a blanket. What about you?" A boy answered.

"I have a few knives, and Daniel has a spear with extra spearheads."

Juan shivered. These people were armed, and they outnumbered him by a lot. There was no way he could get by four of them. He had to just sit it out and wait.

Soon, the light behind him began to dim, making Juan worry if the group below would see his shadow, but the dark thick curtains protected him.

The allies below decided to go to sleep, choosing a girl to be the lookout first. Juan eased himself down on his makeshift platform, fatigue beginning to take over. Underneath him, the flashlight flicked off and the sound of deep breathing and snoring floated up to the boy in the window.

Juan waited and waited, wanting desperately to find a way to get away. He snuck a peek below. The blurs of three sleeping figures were strewn out across the floor, and a small girl, who must be the lookout, had her head lolling back as if she were fighting sleep. She was in the middle of the corridor, facing away from the window. In a wide circle around the quartet, were dozens of items; Juan thought he spotted food and his stomach rumbled.

The girl below looked around, startled, but seemed to think she imagined the noise. Soon, she slumped and fell asleep, her snores blending in with the others'. Juan slid down onto the ground, snatched a water canteen, two apples and a slice of bread and was about to walk away when he realized how dark the halls were. Sinister shadows were strewn on the wall, and fingers of shadows seemed to reach out to him.

Slightly afraid, Juan backed away, until he remembered the flashlight. After a bit of searching, he flicked it on and rushed into the unknown.

Joey Montreal slept soundly, a knife nestled in his palm, using a bag as a pillow. Ella Clearwater sat on watch, but she wasn't sure about the boy anymore. He had reminded her of her two younger brothers, whom she loved with all her life. But after they'd made the alliance, Joey had turned sober, saying nothing at all, but still seeming sweet and soft. He seemed upset by something, but would not say anything. The first night, when the faces showed up on the ceiling instead of the sky, she realized it.

The fourth tribute that was shown in the sky looked a lot like Joey, a girl about 13, a warm smile on her face. Tears rolled down the boy's face, but Ella pretended not to notice. The girl had been his sister.

Ella knew she could not stay with this boy. The more she knew him, the more she would love him. She wouldn't be able to break the alliance. She had to leave him.

While the boy slept, Ella rushed over to him. She grabbed his backpack, leaving him his knives and a small bit of food. She was standing until the water bottle fell out of the bag, clattering against the floor.

Joey started, jumping up and wielding his knife, a fire in his eyes Ella had never seen. "You're trying to steal from me then kill me, aren't you!"  
>"No! No, I just couldn't do it, Joey! I-" Ella cried.<p>

"Save it! I knew I couldn't trust you."

Joey pointed his knife at her, pushing her against the wall. "Joey, please don't do this!" Ella pleaded. "My brothers at home… I can't leave them! Please!"

"I promise I'll give them my best and yours when I win and go on the Victory Tour. I'm sorry. I promised myself and my sister I would win. And I will."

Ella's lip quivered, but she closed her eyes. "Just- just tell them I love them, and my parents and baby sister. Just- don't let them feel abandoned by me!"

Joey's voice lowered to a whisper. "I promise I won't. I am really sorry, about this Ella. I just had to."

Ella nodded, then looked at Joey. She leaned forward and kissed his forehead much like his sister, Rosie might have. "I'm sorry about your sister, Joey. Just make it quick please."

Joey nodded, a single tear cutting down his face, creating a line on his tan skin. "Sorry Ella."

Then he slit her throat.

A cannon echoed through the church, jerking the Careers out of their slumber. Rebecca Smith gripped her knife, and Alex Snare twirled her spear worriedly. "I wonder who that was."

Drew Lancaster swung his sword at the cornucopia, the metal clashing. "No way to know until tonight, but since I'm leader-"

"Wait what?" Alex interrupted. "_You _are the leader? Uh, no. I am the leader. You haven't done anything for us! _I _am the leader here."  
>Rebecca Smith threw a knife. "No, I'm leader! We need to figure this out."<br>"I am the oldest one here, and the strongest. I am the leader," Drew snarled, dodging the weapon.

Drew was beginning to get on Alex's nerves. "Okay, you need to shut up before there is a spear in your head! I am the leader here!"

Drew growled. "_I AM LEADER."_

"That's it!" Alex yelled. She launched her spear and it impaled itself in Drew's chest, right over his heart.

Chapter 5:

Safe Haven… or Not

Dalton Smither turned over in his deep slumber, twitching. Horrible images of blood and gore from the bloodbath haunted him, along with Clearose lifeless, her beautiful face marred by death. He woke with a jerk as an angry roar rang out.

"Someone's been here! They stole our stuff!" Daniel shrieked.

Dalton stood, stretching his sore back from sleeping on the floor. "What did they steal?"

Clearose, Collista and Daniel were scouting their mini cornucopia, where they had laid their stuff out strategically.

"Some of our food is gone," Clea reported. "And a water canteen."  
>"They took our only flashlight!" Daniel swore.<p>

"Did they steal any weapons?" Dalton questioned.

"No."  
>Throughout this, Collista was silent. Everyone turned to look at her. "I'm so sorry! I was too tired, and I fell asleep on watch. They must have snuck by me!" She wailed suddenly, her face burning with shame.<p>

Daniel walked over to her and took her hands. "It's okay, Collista. We'll be fine. I promise."

Dalton still looked a bit mad, but let the matter drop.

"You know what this means; someone found our camp. They could be standing by right now to kill us!" Clea whispered.

Dalton looked at his girlfriend, a protective arm wrapping around her waist to pull her to him. "We have to move!"

Perry walked through the corridors securely, the disarming bracelet on his left wrist, his sword hanging at his side. He gnawed on the inside of his cheek as his stomach growled, and promised himself he'd get his hands on more food when he found an opponent and eliminated them. There was no way they'd kill him now.

The night had come, giving Perry even more hope as the faces of a career and girl shone in the sky. There were only thirteen more opponents to take out before he was crowned victor. The boy was so caught up with his thoughts of all the money he'd have, he almost tripped over the silver parachute at his feet.

Perry stooped down excitedly, tearing the parachute away from the package finding… only an apple and some water. It wasn't much, but he'd take it. The boy bit into the apple hungrily and kept hunting.

Irene shrieked, the world swooping around her. She clung to the gutter of the building, having slid down the roof. Sure that the cameras were trained on her, Irene tried to keep her composure, attempting to pull herself up to the tiles of the building.

The tributes feet fumbled across the brick, trying to find a foothold. The gutter groaned, protesting to Irene's weight. The girl was thankful she was not quite as big as some of the other girls in this competition, for surely she'd be dead by now.

Irene looked down and almost fainted, her heart pounding in her ears. The earth was more than twenty feet below, packed with hard dirt and no grass to cushion her if she fell. The roof was covered in panels, some were coming off to the point there was nothing there, but in some places the missing panels made the roof smooth. Suddenly, the girl had an idea.

Irene slid her sword out of her belt, clinging to the gutter with one hand. Her hands shook and she almost dropped the blade. With a wild swing of her arm, the blade was on the roof, but it slipped across the roof with a sharp slice, and a panel clattered to the ground, breaking in half as it hit the earth.

Irene swung again, and the blade stuck, lodging itself in the roof. With a grunt, she pulled herself onto the panels, gasping for breath, as a tear fell down her face. She walked across the panels more carefully this time, finally arriving at the courtyard. Below her was a garden, tomatoes, pumpkins and strawberries on the ground, and several apple trees surrounding them.

There, next to the apple trees, were _her _trees; several tall oak trees, their wood supple but strong, ready for her to cut at it, to make her the weapon that would save her life. The girl walked over to one tree's branches and shimmied across it, then slid down the trunk. She plucked an apple and chewed it, completely happy where she was. She had found her safe haven.

Rebecca Smith kept seeing the spear enter Drew's chest in her mind. She could not believe Alex would just get mad and assassinate him. But this was the Hunger Games, hopefully two deaths would keep the crowd satisfied so the Gamemakers didn't choose to send any mutts.

Scott and Saphire had returned, their faces red with awkwardness. They said the building was definitely a church, and all the halls seemed the same. Out one window, they'd seen a blizzard, out another an ocean. They had found no one in there search, but heard screams at a few points, and heard a crash at another.

As Rebecca looked at them, taking in their description of the arena, she realized the pair was holding hands. She felt a bit confused, but looked away.

Suddenly, there was a crash outside one of the wooden doors, and Scott jumped up, pushing Saphire behind him with the hand that had held hers moments before. He grabbed his sword and approached the door. "You stay here!" He ordered everyone.

Scott pushed open the door to find an empty corridor. He walked down the hall a ways when suddenly a boy ran into him.

"Ahh!" The boy shrieked.

Scott grabbed him by the shirt, dragging him back into the room containing the cornucopia. "Who are you?"  
>"I'm Piggy," The boy said, trying to sound confident. He held a spear, but Scott knocked it out of his hands and it clattered across the floor. Scott half-dragged Piggy back to the base, throwing him on the floor.<p>

Rebecca stepped forward. "I've got this one, Scott," She said, a cruel glint in her eye, and an evil smile on her lips. She raised her knife and threw it, making a slash of blood across Piggy's white shirt. He gasped for breath, his body shaking on the ground. Rebecca launched another dagger, this one lodging itself in the boy's stomach.

Piggy convulsed on the ground, moans escaping his mouth, and blood trickled out of his lips down his chin. He looked at Rebecca. "_Kill me!"_

The girl looked at him, and with a flick of her wrist there was a blade in his throat and a cannon fired in the silent.

Rebecca smiled, surveying her work. The Careers stepped away from the body, and the claws dropped down to collect Piggy's body. There were eleven people dead, and only twelve were left in her way.

The night was bittersweet for Sky. She had stumbled her way upon a kitchen and bathroom. The kitchen was old-fashioned and worn down, and the sink in the bathroom gave off only warm, brown water, but it worked, nonetheless.

Sky held her breath as she threw open the pantry, gasping at all the food it held. Though the church seemed very ancient, the assortment of rations in front of Sky was in date and completely free of mold.

The girl said a silent prayer of thanks; she could survive months here if she needed to. But the thought of months in the Hunger Games made her shiver, so she pushed it out of her mind.

Sky found a refrigerator and threw it open, a grin breaking out on her face. The fridge was stocked full with water, juice, milk, and some sort of drink in a glass bottle like Sky'd never seen before.

The girl gingerly picked up the unknown drink and pulled off the lid, swirling the bottle. The liquid fizzed, a popping sound reaching Sky's ears. The drink smelled sweet and tart; the concoction made her mouth water. Sky put a drop of the liquid on her tongue, and it made her taste buds dance, her throat thirst for more.

Sky put the bottle's lip to her own, tilted her head back and let the liquid slide down her throat. The girl groaned with satisfaction and opened a second bottle, chugging this one within seconds. But somehow, it didn't taste the same. Sky's stomach twitched, the bottle fell from her hand and she retched. The vomit was acid against her esophagus, and was a deadly red with her blood.

Sky fell upon the floor in a pool of blood and puke, retching and convulsing.

The final thought that crossed her mind told her the truth about the drink… she had been poisoned.

Sky lay there, staring unseeingly at the tile ceiling; her heart beating feebly.

A cannon fired, and as the grey sky outside faded into nothingness, as did the life of Sky Grey.

Chapter 6:

The Captured and Captors

Juan Pierre's mind was swirling with different emotions. On one hand, he was starting to feel like he had a chance at winning this thing. In all, twelve people had died already. And, although the Games were tinted with the melancholy deaths, he couldn't help feeling happy; he might be able to go home. But, on the other hand he only had a small amount of water left, and half an apple. He was also beginning to worry he might run out of food, water and batteries for his flashlight.

The boy pushed a dark lock of hair out of his eyes, and looked around. He was in a hallway that looked the same as all the others; dulling carpet, dim lights, a high window with dark red curtains and a small table underneath it. Getting an idea, Juan twitched the curtain, glancing out to see a large field, with plants Juan didn't recognize that much, and a willow tree.

Juan sighed, thinking of District Seven. Willows were his favorite trees; they seeped of sorrow but still proved you could stand up tall. Now, more than ever, Juan could relate to willows.

He climbed on the table, looking at the window. Climbing up a ways, he searched the ledge, finding no key, and no way to open the window without one. Suddenly, he spotted a silver parachute and threw out a hand to snatch it out of the air. Attached to the parachute was a tiny key. Juan inserted it into the window's tiny keyhole, and pushed it open. He slid out, landing with a soft _thud _on the hard packed dirt.

Juan pocketed the key and closed the window, looking at his surroundings, taking a deep breath of _real _air; instead of the musty, stuffy air of the church. Then he froze.

A few feet away were a broken pane from the roof, and a large wooden door. But that could just be a coincidence. But the laugh couldn't.

A high, excited laugh had sounded. It wasn't malicious, it was _happy_, truly happy. And it had sounded not fifty feet away from where Juan was standing.

The urge to win was beginning to leave Joey; replaced with a final feeling that his sister was dead. _Really dead. _He couldn't believe it. Of course, he knew they both couldn't survive in the arena, but somewhere, in the very back of his mind, he'd believed she would be the one to win. Rosie was - or had been – the smart one. She wasn't just smart, she was brilliant. She knew a lot more about books and academic-related things than him. Rosie was quick, and if you really got her mad was _really _vicious.

Joey knew he needed to win; but he felt as if death for him would be a sweet rest from the pain and sadness the church reeked. He didn't want to go home without his sister, to join his family in grieving. He didn't want to go home a killer.

Joey thought of Ella every second he wasn't thinking of Rosie. The way she had cried about her family, the way she'd kissed his forehead as he was about to kill her. That simple gesture had made Joey want to curl up in a ball and weep. Rosie had kissed his forehead like that every night; before they were dragged into the Games. The Hunger Games had torn them apart.

Joey also kept reliving Ella's death. The quiet, _slice! _As the knife grated against her skin; the blood on his blade; her eyes getting a glassy look making her look peaceful in death. And the cannon that made him break.

As it had fired in the silence, Joey stumbled away. _I just killed someone. _He thought desperately. _Ella just died because of me. _Behind him, the hovercrafts came; silent wings beating in the echo of the cannon, taking Ella's body back home where her family would mourn her and detest him. He'd never be able to relay Ella's message, but they'd seen it on TV. They'd seen her die.

A tear rolled down Joey's cheek, and he sat down against the wall; hating himself.

Scott wanted to punch himself.

Saphire had asked him why he'd saved her, and looking into her eyes, he'd blurted out the truth. _"Saphire, I love you."_

How _stupid _he was! Saphire had gaped at him, a heartbreaking expression covering her face. _"I – but – oh, Scott. Please don't say that! Not now."_

"_Why not? I do, and why not now? It may be the last time I have to tell you." _Scott had replied.

"_I – my mother died a few years ago; and I can't have another person I grow to care about that I may lose or that I may die and leave! Please…"_

Scott had looked at her, an apologetic light in his golden-brown eyes. _"I'm sorry Saphire, I just had to tell you." _

They had continued walking, another awkward silence between them, when her hand slipped into his. _"I'm sorry, Scott. I – just- when did you start liking me!"  
>"For a long time," <em>Scott replied.

"_Well I was stupid not to notice it," _Saphire said, looking up at him. She pecked him on the cheek and kept walking with Scott's hand in her own.

Perry was beginning to tire, the excitement from finding his disarming bracelet fading. He was hungry, his stomach rumbling in protest for him to fill it, and his tongue felt dry from the lack of water. He was tired, and the fact he was in the Games had finally sunk in. The church seemed creepier, and the faces of the saints on the walls mocked him.

Perry came across a room that seemed like a child's room, but passed it without entering. The colorful, happy pictures painted on the walls didn't fit the context of where he was. Everywhere he turned; every little movement in the air made him tense, he was beginning to be paranoid. Whenever a shadow moved, he'd turn in anticipation and find it was only a mouse, or nothing at all.

Once he thought he heard voices, but his drive to find other tributes and kill them had ebbed away along with the short burst of energy the apple and water had given him. But no more silver parachutes arrived, and he could feel his cruel mentor, Cillia Madrid, laughing at him as he starved. She hated him. He guessed she'd just sent through the apple and water to tease him, to make his body crave more.

No matter how hard he looked, how much he searched every board on the wall, he found absolutely no more rooms after the child's room, and the paintings began to look alike, making Perry wonder if he was just going in a circle or going delusional. And no matter how hard he tried to look tough, like he wasn't paranoid, famished and tired, he knew it wasn't working. He couldn't help but hate those wretched Capitol people. But right now he relied on their money a lot, he needed another gift. _Something! _

The building creaked and groaned, only adding to Perry's uneasiness. He'd never felt like he would be one to feel weakened by the Games, but they'd broken him. He felt sad, and in no way had being beaten and abused at home prepared him for this as he'd thought. Over and over, Perry saw his father smacking his mother, and he didn't know why.

He had no love for his parents, no respect. They despised him, and despised each other. They didn't visit him in the Justice Building after he was reaped, and wouldn't care if he died. But, he knew when he won they would be clingy, crying fake tears of joy for the cameras and stuffing themselves with the Capitol food, using _his _money for things they didn't need.

But they wouldn't get one single penny of his money. They wouldn't take in their new luxurious surroundings of the Victor's Village home. Because they'd never get it. They'd never step foot in the house.

This was exactly what Perry was thinking about when a hand shot out from underneath a table, grabbing his ankle and tripping him. A figure crawled out and grabbed Perry's shirt, shouting out.

"Clea, Collista, Daniel! Come here!"

The garden was even better than Irene had anticipated. There were birds around, sing-songs emerging from their beaks, lulling Irene to sleep with a full stomach for the first time since she'd entered the arena.

Irene was shaken from her light slumber when the anthem blared, the Capitol flag waving in the sky above, blocking the moon. There were no faces in the sky tonight, no one had died. If this continued, the Gamemakers would send in some of their creations. Mutts, disasters, or a feast to drive them all together. They would try and cause tension among allies. Any kind of violence, romance, or pain would keep Capitol citizens satisfied.

Aside from that dark thought nagging Irene, she felt completely at peace in the garden. She had food to last forever, shelter in the trees, and had begun making herself a bow. The ground below was littered with discarded sticks and branches; the failed attempts to make a weapon.

Irene decided to walk along the roof and see what the rest of the arena around the church held. In one spot, the field changed to desert, but when the hot, sweaty air turned freezing, and she almost slipped on an ice patch, she decided to walk back to her base.

Irene scrambled back to her tree, and when she was walking, she saw the perfect piece of wood for her bow, a small ways above where she'd been sleeping, strapped in the tree. She climbed up, sawing her way through the branch and pulling down the wood. She whittled it for only a minute until it was the perfect shape and size for her, then used taught but ductile wood to form the string, the hardest, most delicate part of making a bow.

Quickly, Irene grabbed a random stick, just as a test. She fired, and the twig whistled through the air snapping against the brick wall of the church. A laugh escaped her lips.

Finally, she had her bow. A weapon to keep her alive.

Dalton and Clearose still seemed a bit mad at Collista for letting the unknown tribute slip by her along with some of their supplies. She felt horrible, and knew the only thing keeping Dalton from hurting her was Daniel, protectively by her side, holding her hand and whispering encouraging words into her ear.

"It's okay, Collista! We don't blame you. We'll be fine."

Collista had just nodded blankly, still not entirely convinced, as Dalton continued to shoot glares at her. At one point, Clearose attempted to break the tension by suggesting the split up and hide in the corridor, within a small distance of each other, because they were still paranoid about a tribute stalking them.

So, everyone hid in different places. Clearose hid behind a curtain, Dalton under a table, Collista behind a doorway along with Daniel who refused to leave her alone. They seemed frozen in time, never moving as the grandfather clock on one wall continued to tick away.

But, after about three hours when they were about to give up, a soft, sluggish sound of feet registered, and everyone was quiet. Collista heard a thud, a gasp and Dalton shouted out.

Alex was beginning to get annoyed with her allies. Scott and Saphire were awkward and quiet; seeming too lovey-dovey for the Hunger Games as they held hands and Scott tried desperately to protect Saphire. Rebecca continued to try to take charge, but was careful not to get too much in Alex's way. She seemed afraid of her. Alex snorted, perfect. They should be afraid of her; she would be the one to win this thing, after all. And nothing, _nothing,_ would stand in her way.

Chapter 7:

Revenge of the Ruthless

Rebecca sat, cleaning the dried blood off of her knives with the polish she'd found. She realized being a Career could get boring. She poked through the cornucopia, searching for anything out of the ordinary, but found none. "We need to go hunting!" she whined.

"Calm down, we are going after we're all rested up," Alex said casually.

Rebecca continued pacing the items, beginning to organize them. Weapons, food, backpacks. She'd look through the packs later. A chorus of screams echoed through the corridors, followed by a cry of dismay. Two cannons rang out. "See?" Rebecca demanded. "People are getting killed out there and we have nothing to do with it! We're _Careers!"_

"Yes, and you're getting on my nerves. Just calm down!" Alex snapped.

"That's it!" Rebecca called out. "I'm going out to see what's going on for myself. Be back soon." She snatched up a backpack, loaf of bread, water and fruit, slid several knives into her belt, and threw some extra spear heads into her bag. She grabbed her favorite spear - a metal one with a wickedly sharp point, handle and string attached to bring it back to her after throwing - and stalked out.

Saphire groaned as Alex and Rebecca started another argument. They didn't get along well and fought about everything; from who was leader, to food, to hunting. Saphire knew she should say something, but Alex scared her. Her icy brown stare would not relent to anything, and she always seemed in a sour mood. She was twice Saphire's size, and looked like she could use some of the smaller tributes as a toothpick.

Once, in an act of trying to calm the storm, Saphire had talked about her home. Then she looked at Alex. "What about you, Alex? How's your family?"

"Dead." Alex said monotonously.

"Oh! Well, what happened?"

"I killed them," Alex said in such a way Saphire could not tell if she was joking or not; and Alex never gave her a true answer. So Saphire tried to stay out of her way as much as possible.

Whenever Alex and Rebecca fought, Saphire and Scott stood back awkwardly. She felt so blind for never noticing he'd liked her! And how had she never realized… she liked him too? But now that they were both in the games, there was no chance for them to stay together. They were doomed.

Saphire looked at Scott, and he half smiled down at her. She took his hand, and he rubbed circles on the back of hers, trying to comfort her, she guessed. But she could never calm down; not here. Not when death lurked around the corner; not when crowds of people all around Panem were watching her every move. Not when Gamemakers sat at the controls, ready to unleash mutts, famines, a flood, sickness, every horrid thing Saphire could think of. They could kill her with the push of a button, and maybe that was the way on of the other tributes had already died. Because all the Capitol wanted was a good show. It was entertainment to them; they didn't care about the kids who didn't win, they just wanted to make bets on how they would be demolished, and if they won, how the Capitol could use them as a tool and exploit them.

Saphire looked up at Scott, remembering what he'd said about not wanting to win if she had to die. And she realized she felt the same way. As she took in his soft, brown eyes, fixated on her, his body strong but somehow so vulnerable, she felt a pang of sadness. Of course! She realized. Saphire didn't just like Scott.

She was crazy about him.

Juan froze in fear. Was the person near him, whoever they were, laughing at _him_? Had they just killed someone? How far away were they? Could they see him? These questions and more haunted him as Juan backed up to the willow, bracing himself against the rough trunk. He scampered up to the lowest branch, scanning the area. He heard a sharp _snap_ and the sound of wood breaking. It seemed to be coming from through the wall. What was going on?

Juan climbed up the limbs, his small body easily twisting up until he was on the top branch of the tree, his head sticking out among to flowing tresses of the willow. Now, he saw over the roof a few large trees sticking out of a hole in the roof, a courtyard. He squinted to make out a small figure in the top branches of an oak. It was a girl, the girl from twelve. She was sawing away at a branch, a handmade wooden bow slung over her shoulder. A few feet down, a blanket was slung over a branch, waving in the wind. A black backpack hung over the same branch.

Juan crouched back down, not sure what to do. The girl was older than him, but her face looked sweet. He needed an ally, and from his perch, he could see the girl had a water canteen slung over her shoulder, an apple on her waist, half bitten into. She had food, and his own share was now gone. He had no weapons to defend himself if she ended up being vicious, and he had promised himself he would not kill anyone. But he still wanted to win.

Juan made his decision, beginning to carefully make his way back down when a branch broke under his foot, and he cried out. He reached out for a branch to hang onto, but it only skidded across his hand. The long branches whipped at his face, and he was sure his plan to be quiet was already foiled.

Juan fell upon the ground, groaning. He didn't care if the girl came. He felt as if his arm was broken, and his face and hands were raw and bleeding. His entire body ached. He had a small first aid kit in his bag, but it was snagged on the branches above. He couldn't stand.

The boy rolled over onto his back, his entire body screaming in protest. Above in the bright sun, he made out the figure of the girl from twelve. She stood on the roof, looking down nervously at him.

"Are you okay?"

Juan groaned in reply.

Reluctantly, the girl, Irene, jumped over to the willow. She swung down gracefully, plucking his pack off the branch.

"First Aid – in the pack!" Juan managed to get out.

Irene quickly opened the bag and pulled out a bandage. She helped Juan sit up and rapped the gauze around his arm as he winced. She put disinfectant on his cuts and gave him water. "Are you okay?"

Juan nodded meekly.

"Do you want an ally?"

Juan smiled. "It looks like I've found one."

Perry fell to the ground with a thud, and he gasped. He swung around, kicking to free his foot. Now as he was in the presence of other tributes, he didn't seem as cool and collected. He pushed his wristlet, but the person grabbing him appeared unarmed.

A boy with dark hair crawled out from under a table. He wasn't huge, but was at least half a foot taller than Perry. "Clea, Collista, Daniel! Come here!"

Perry pulled out his sword, though he was shaking he tried to hide it. "Please!" He pretended. "Please! I could be your ally!"

Dalton looked at Perry apologetically. "I'm sorry, man. But I have enough allies, and I can't afford to take chances. I have to get my girlfriend out of here alive."

Seeing the boy was about to attempt to kill him anyway, Perry dropped the act. A burst of anger ran through him, and he stopped cowering. "Well, we'll see… or _I'll _see… how that works out for you. You can't both win, you know," He snarled.

The boy's reinforcements appeared then; a tall girl with gleaming blonde hair, a short brunette with knives in her belt, and a boy with shaggy blonde hair and a spear.

Perry swung his sword in a wide ark, warding them away from him. He raised his hand, and the boy's spear was thrown into the wall, crushing through the drywall and sticking in a block of wood.

The quartet stared wide-eyed at Perry, and he laughed at their expressions. He could guess what they were thinking. _Who is this? How can he have powers to throw our weapons into the wall without touching it? How will we survive and kill him when he can do such things?_

The smallest one pulled a knife out of her belt, shaking slightly but still managing to muster a cold glare at Perry. The boy flicked his hand, but the girl spun around, moving the knife out of the range of his disarming band. Was that possible? No! His weapon could not have a fault!

Perry tried again, and reluctantly the girl's allies moved back as she maneuvered away, guessing Perry's every next move and somehow knowing the range of his bracelet. She spun around in quick circles, her knife a blur in the dim light, flying through the air. Perry was getting annoyed with this game. He wielded his knife but this did not seem to frighten the girl. She kept up her quick little dance, never letting Perry get close to her.

Perry should've known his weakness. He was too easily angered. He stomped in frustration, his arm swinging without thinking. His bracelet; which had been to large for his wrist from the start, flew off his hand across the hall landing at the blonde girl's feet. She snatched it up, and the blonde boy had dislodged his spear from the wall. He threw it, and automatically Perry flicked his hand, almost bored. But the bracelet could not help him now, as it was on the blonde girl's wrist.

The spear, which was now a bit broken and dull from the wall, slammed against his head. Perry fell to the ground, feeling himself fading. But he would not go down without a fight. Perry wildly threw his sword, hoping only that it could injure someone at least. But his vision was impaired by spots of black and white. He screamed out in agony, and he wasn't sure but he though his own scream was joined by the harmony of another's pain. He hoped he had caused it.

And then it was the end for Perry; the one he never thought would come.

"No!" Clea cried as a cannon rang out, but it was only the boy from six's. Dalton was on his knees, the boy's sword embedded in his stomach, slanted at an extreme angle towards his ribs. Blood was already beginning to cover the handle, and her boyfriend's breathing was sharp and painful. His eyes were milky as if he was already gone.

Clearose grasped Dalton's hand. The boy she loved with all her heart wasn't dying. He couldn't die. Not now, not like this.

"Dalton!"

"Clearose," Dalton groaned. "You have to win! For us. For me. You have to! Please!" His voice was pained. "I just couldn't bare it!" He looked up at Daniel. "Please keep her safe as long as you can. I know you'll have to split up, just take care of her for as long as you can! Please!"

Daniel nodded, a solemn look on his face. But Clea didn't notice. Her eyes were locked on Dalton's pained face. Suddenly, the glassy look overtook his dark eyes and he slumped to the ground.

"NOOOOOOO!"

Chapter 8:

Mutts

Clearose sat on the ground where Dalton died. She refused to move; just sat and stared at the ground with her tear-stricken face. When Collista or Daniel tried to cheer her up, she just averted her eyes and let out dry sobs. She curled herself into a ball and put her head between her knees.

"You need to stop this madness! He's gone! There's nothing you can do now! You are in the Hunger Games! Do you know what that means? EVERYONE DIES EXCEPT FOR ONE! Dalton wanted you to win, not to be a useless, vulnerable mess!" Collista was past the point of cheering her up. Clearose needed to be strong or she and Daniel would leave her. Collista droned on and on to Clearose, who was only half listening, until she gave up and stomped away.

"Don't you think you were a little too hard on her?" Daniel asked. When Collista made no reply, he sighed and took her hand. "What if I died?" Collista flinched. "What would you do?"

Collista was silent. She looked at Clearose – who was still crying on the ground – and then looked back at her boyfriend. She reached up and kissed him, not aware of the pounding footsteps and menacing growls erupting from behind them.

Joey couldn't stand to live anymore. He was haunted by Rosie and Ella's death. He hated himself even more than the Hunger Games – and that was saying something. He let out a loud, defeated scream and held the knife he used to kill Ella in front of his face. The dried blood rose bile in his throat, and he quickly swallowed it.

Joey knew he didn't deserve to live. In his mind, he was doing the world a favor. He was disgusted with himself. He took a deep breath and slit his throat with the knife. Ella and Rosie's face flashed before him and he welcomed the darkness that could only be death.

"Rebecca still isn't back yet," Saphire murmured. Scott gave her hand a reassuring squeeze and glanced nervously at the huge wooden doors. "Something's wrong guys, I know it." No one paid attention to her.

Alex paced back and forth in front of them. Growls and painful scratching noises escaped from the hallway, making Alex, Saphire, and Scott's heads jerk up to look at the doors. A bloodcurdling scream rung out. Then another. Then silence.

The canon rung.

"I think that was Rebecca," Scott whispered. To his surprise, a small, pleasant smile appeared on Alex's face.

"Let's go check it out," Saphire said. Alex shot her a murderous glare. "What? Rebecca was right. We can't just sit around. That's what cowards do, not careers." Saphire crossed her arms and attempted to look like she wasn't scared to death by Alex.

Alex snarled and moved to stand right in front of Saphire. "You will do as I say! I am the leader, not you! I say we stay here and wait for the others to die off." When Saphire wouldn't back down, Alex slapped Saphire just above her jaw, knocking Saphire off her feet. Scott gasped and helped her up. He grabbed one of the backpacks with food, water, and knives in it and pulled Saphire out the door.

"What do you think your doing? I said, WE'RE NOT LEAVING! Get back here!" Alex started after them, but then thought better of it, and hung back.

After what seemed like hours of roaming the hallways, Saphire shrieked and gripped Scott's arm so hard that he winced and slid her hand down the length of his arm to his hand. It took him a minute to figure out why she was screaming so loud until he saw two huge mutts standing a few yards away. Blood dripped off their chins and they bared their teeth at the terrified couple. In one of their mouths was a bloody limb, and lying below them was Rebecca's bloody, lifeless body. Saphire fell to her knees and vomited all over the ground.

"It's okay. Everything's going to be okay." The rancid smell filled the air. Scott patted her back and tried not to vomit himself. He pulled a couple knives out of the backpack as the two monsters lunged at them.

Juan and Irene had been getting along great. She bandaged and cared for him, and they chatted about their families and life before the Hunger Games. Irene reached for her bow after they had eaten some berries from a bush nearby. Juan couldn't walk just yet, but he scooted away as fast as he could when he saw Irene nock the arrow and test the string.

She giggled and pointed the bow at the ground. "I wasn't going to shoot you! I just wanted to be prepared if someone were to find us," she said casually, shrugging her shoulders.

"Oh." Juan felt stupid for thinking that the girl who had nursed him to health was about to randomly shoot him. He relaxed and scooted back to his original position. He felt a knew level of trust towards Irene, they were going to make great allies. Maybe even good friends. She met his thoughtful gaze and smiled.

"You know were going to have to split up when it gets down to, like, the final four right?" she asked, just as casually as before. Juan's happiness faded away with each of Irene's words.

He stared dumbfounded at her for a few moments, then regained his composure. "Uh...yeah...yeah I know. That's what I was thinking," he stuttered.

"Good." Irene obviously didn't notice Juan's hesitance.

Alex had never been more angry. Not even at her parents before she killed them. She let out a loud grunt and decided to go after Saphire and Scott to give them a piece of her mind. She was the leader. They would listen to her. She stomped out the heavy, wooden doors with a backpack and her sword. Then she stopped – she had no idea which way they went. She let out an exasperated breath and chose to go left. As Alex rounded a corner, she heard quiet voices and an odd moaning sound.

"Thanks. I know I didn't deserve it after acting that way," a girl said.

"Your our ally, plus if I hadn't killed it, it would probably have killed me and Collista too," a boy said.

Careful not to make any noise, Alex tiptoed over the clearing where a boy and two girls stood over a monstrous beast. She hid behind a tall, white column, preparing to attack. She watched the small group with growing curiosity. The boy had his fingers intertwined with a pretty brown-haired girl with the other girl puffy-eyed and standing in front of them. She looked like she had been crying for hours. The moaning noise came from the beast, which was laying in between them with a knife stuck in its back. Alex crinkled her nose at the stagnant smell of decay that filled the air.

Oh, crap. Alex thought. The small brown-haired girl pointed in her direction and whispered something unintelligible to her allies. They all started muttering to one another in fast-paced, hushed tones.

The boy shook his head and pried the brown-haired girl's hand out of his. "No. I'm going. You two stay here," he commanded decidedly. The girls each gave reluctant sighs and exchanged glances. The boy held his sword up in front of his face and started walking towards Alex.

Chapter 9:

Trapped

Mika Crane was much like her grandfather, but much unlike him all the same. Seneca Crane had been killed by President Snow, but the Capitol gave Mika a chance to be head Gamemaker after they heard about her.

Mika's once black, now red, eyes were malicious, and her teeth had been filed down to points. Her voice was cruel and scratchy making others shiver with fear whenever they were within ten feet of her. And she was brilliantly evil.

Mika looked forward to the games each year; she loved them. Even as a child, she had loved staying up late to watch the extra footage of the Games. Her eyes had been glued to the screen to watch as the tributes shivered in the cold, stabbed each other and were devoured by mutts. As a girl, she dreamed up new muttations, arenas, weapons, and smiled at the thought of watching the tributes suffer through the pain she'd cause.

Now, Mika was considered the best Gamemaker of all time. Her arenas were bloodcurdling; stocked with odd mutts, poison and traps ready to spring if she pressed the button. She loved choosing which tributes to kill each year, and picking the punishment for the Quarter Quell had been her favorite. For the fourth Quell, she didn't know who'd be chosen. She'd made the districts decide one tribute to send, and that tribute had to bring their sibling or closest friend, no matter their age. The killing was to a minimum that year, so Mika had been able to send out a flurry of different mutts.

This year was especially interesting with its twins, (Now dead), three romances (which Mika couldn't wait to break), and much tension between alliances. The bloodbath had been unusually small, with only eight tributes dead. This gave Mika more chances to catch all the blood. Though Mika could not bet, if she could she would bet on Alex Snare, who reminded her of herself.

The arena this year was stocked with surprises. The kitchen, which Sky Grey had found out the hard way, held bottles of poison disguised as soda. The first of her mutts had already been released, much to everyone's surprise. Rebecca Smith had learned the hard way that there were few weak spots, which Daniel Willaims had been lucky enough to hit. The gifts, such as Perry Leeman's disarming bracelet, had tons of faults. The field's plants were riddled with disease, the desert held many muttations, and her favorite one was yet to be discovered.

The church was more than just an arena. All of its aspects were alive. The ocean, the paintings, the church itself, they were all alive; they were only in a deep slumber. And with the push of a button they would be awakened; much to the tribute's dismay and the Capitol's delight.

These things made the deaths more unexpected, gave Mika more opportunity to take the credit for the deaths. She was waiting to unleash the best of her bombshells; but they were sure to be shocking.

Collista looked at the fallen mutt; it's enormous body filling the hall. It was some sort of monster. It was unlike any mutt she'd ever seen, fitting no category. But it reminded her of the worst nightmares, the horror stories she always heard.

Its face was shaped as a wolf's, its fangs were permanately bared, stained red… with blood. Collista wondered who's blood, but then shivered and shook the thought out of her head. The mutt- which was somewhat like a werewolf, had a stout body, covered in short dark hairs and its spine made bumps under its skin. The claws were long and razor-sharp, and it had no eyes. It could see, but there were no eyes, only empty sockets that had bore into her soul when it was living. Everything about it made her want to freeze; paralyzed in its stare. Even when she knew it was dead, her mind screamed to her, _run!_

A sharp, intake of breath alerted her, and she looked away from the corpse, praying it had been Clearose who made the sound. But when she looked at her ally, she found it was not such. Clea was looking around too, fear in her eyes.

Collista pointed to a white column, behind which a shadow lurked.

"Something's behind that column!"

A harsh look overcame Clea. "We have to go see what it is!"

"It could be another mutt!" Daniel protested.

"Yes, or a tribute!" Collista pointed out.

"We can take it." Clea said, fingering the boy from six's disarming bracelet in disgust. "Dalton told me to win these games, and I will!"

"No, I'm going. You two stay here," Daniel commanded.

Collista and Clea sighed in defeat and looked at each other, worry and annoyance in their eyes.

Daniel advanced on the column, his spear held in front of his body. He looked around the column and jumped back as a spear slashed through the air, narrowly missing his chest. Clea's finger hovered millimeters over the stone on her bracelet, ready to activate it at a moments notice.

A girl stepped out into the corridor, an evil grin on her face. A maniac laugh escaped her lips, and she showed her teeth, much like an animal preparing to lunge. She swung her spear back and forth like a pendulum; glaring at the group and advancing. Her silver spear-head was stained brown with long-dried blood, and for a horrifying moment, Collista imagined it with her own bright crimson blood dripping from it.

Daniel backed away from Alex Snare, his spear braced in front of his body. He held his arms out like a bird's wings; trying to shield Clearose and Collista.

Alex cackled. "Yes, little Danny! Protect your girlfriends!"

Daniel blushed faintly. "You won't touch them!"

"Yes… and you won't get any final kisses," Alex feinted and kept advancing.

Collista glanced backward and almost fell over. Alex wasn't just trying to catch them… she was herding them. Behind her stood a large, room with no other visible doors, only a tall window revealing a beach and roaring ocean.

Alex stepped over the body of the werewolf, still laughing with glee.

Too soon, Collista ran into the window, the dull sky behind her casting shadows upon the wood floor. Alex smiled; knowing she had won. But Collista wasn't going to give up that fast.

"Climb!"

Clea and Daniel did so, grabbing the curtains and scaling up to a platform, then the next.

Alex looked up at them; anger flaring in her eyes. She began to climb the window, but Collista pulled out her knife and sawed away the curtain. Alex fell to the ground and looked at her enemies. She sat down, glaring up at them. She would not move.

Juan and Irene were completely safe in their little garden, the deep blue sky ahead shining on them, not a cloud in the sky. But when two cannons rang out, and screams echoed from inside the church; their safe tree shook and the pair looked at each other. A loud howl rang out; and Juan looked at Irene in worry.

"Mutts…" Irene whispered.

Juan slung on his backpack and gripped the knife Irene has given him, knowing he wouldn't be able to use it against anyone anyway.

A different sound reached their ears; a large screeching noise, somewhere above their heads. A shadow overcame the sky, and the duo looked up. A cloud of birds were passing; that was all. But then, the birds dived down, aiming straight at the courtyard. As they approached, Juan saw their eyes were red, their pupils were slits. Their wings were pure gold, and their beaks were sharp, and a red substance dripped from their mouths. Juan hoped it wasn't blood.

Irene shrieked, grabbing her bow. "Juan, get ready! You'll have to kill them! I only have thirteen arrows, and my knife. It looks like they're about fifty of them! If we don't make it; Juan just know we tried our best, and you are such a good person! They're coming!"

Juan readied himself…

And the birds hit.

Saphire stood, trying to ignore the taste of vomit in her mouth. She pulled her golden bow off of her shoulder and loaded it. Scott readied his sword. The mutts glared at them, their mouths dripping with Rebecca's blood. One of the mutts dropped Rebecca's mangled, bloody arm and growled.

"Saphire – I'm sorry. I'm sorry I couldn't help you anymore. I love you."

Saphire looked at Scott. "Scott… Scott I love you too."

Then Saphire rushed the mutts. She dodged them quickly, shooting one in its eye socket, but it just growled in anger.

By her side, Scott was slashing at the second mutt. Cuts appeared in the muttation's body, but it did not die. Scott sliced outward, narrowly nicking the mutt's back. It howled… but not in anger. It staggered, screaming in pain.

"Saphire! I found a weak spot! Hit its back!" Scott screeched, a small light entering his eyes.

Saphire nodded and jumped onto a table, trying to get a clear shot. Scott jumped up on a table and leapt, stabbing the beast in its back. It fell to the ground with a moan, and continued to shake

Saphire was running along the table like a gazelle, trying to get a clear shot. "Saphire!" Scott yelled. He pointed to a large chandelier, almost touching the beast's back.

Saphire nodded and shouldered her bow. She hopped lightly into the air, raising her hands and catching onto the chandelier. She hooked her leg over the bar and raised her bow. The once-career fired, and the arrow pierced the skin, the mutt shook and fell, moaning. With another two fired arrows, the beasts were still and the air was quiet.

"You did it!" Scott cheered. He helped her down from the chandelier, and they embraced. "Do you – do you really love me?" Scott whispered into Saphire's hair.

"I – yes…" Saphire said hesitantly.

They pulled apart, and looked at each other a moment. Scott caressed the bruise already appearing on Saphire's jaw where Alex had hit her.

"We should let them come for Rebecca…"

Saphire nodded, and didn't bother collecting her arrows. She didn't want them. They walked away, hand in hand, and the helicopter came through the roof, collecting the bloodied, almost unrecognizable corpse of Rebecca Smith.

Chapter 10:

Back Into the Swarm

The first thing Irene noticed about the birds… the substance on their beaks was not blood.

The substance burned holes into her shirt, made her skin bubble. It felt like tiny knives ripping straight through her very being. It made her mind want to shut down, for her to completely give in and let the birds destroy her. She screamed in pain. The liquid was worse than acid, even more painful than poison. And it wouldn't kill her directly. It only caused her enough pain to make her want to kill herself.

Irene waved her bow in vain, but the birds weren't even upon her yet. The acid bubbled on the wooden bow's surface, turning it a sickly green.

Irene came to her senses, finding a bird and firing at it. The arrow lodged itself in the bird's golden feathers, only angering the thing. Irene tried again, but it was futile. The birds would not die.

By now, the bark under her fingers was crumbling, losing its perfect shape. Irene threw down the bow and took out her long hunting knife. The first bird attacked, winding its sharp talons in Irene's hair. The acid burned her scalp, the beat of the golden wings was sickening.

Juan screamed from somewhere to her left, and Irene guessed a bird had just reached him.

Irene sliced at the bird, and a golden wing clattered to the ground. The bird followed it.

"Juan, cut its wings! I can't find any other weaknesses!"

The rest of the birds hit then, engulfing Irene in a cloud of golden feathers and acid. She shook on her branch, wishing she were on the ground. She slashed wildly at nothing, trying desperately to lessen the burden of mutts around her. A few birds fell; but still more crowded around her. She slashed and stabbed; screaming frequently and the muttations pecked at her, the acid burned her skin and the wings smacked her face, making her sway in her branch, on the verge of falling.

Some of the load lessened of her, and Juan screamed as half of the birds moved in to attack him. Irene attempted to hit more birds, but missed. They were learning her moves, and would dodge as she swung.

Irene looked down at the ground, where only about seven birds lay. She couldn't fight up here. The ground was about ten feet below.

Irene scampered down the trunk like a squirrel a few feet, then jumped, landing unevenly on her feet. She staggered, crying out. Her right leg buckled under her.

Irene kneeled in pain, and the birds descended to attack once again. She spotted her bow, and crawled over to it. She shot a few arrows into the flock, and one or two birds fell. They were back upon her then, and she disappeared in the cloud.

Scott and Saphire hurried down the corridors quickly, hand in hand. They would not break that hand hold.

Scott's stomach was growling with hunger, and the horror of the games still lurked, but he felt if he were floating on air.

"_Scott… Scott I love you," _Saphire had said.

"_Do you really love me?"_

"_Yes."_

She loved him. She _really loved him! _He would not let go of her, and he would not let her die. She would win, he would make sure of it.

Saphire's grip on his hand tightened, and he looked down at her. Her face was slightly green, her face beaded with sweat.

"What's wrong?" Scott asked urgently.

"I- I don't feel very good."

Scott helped Saphire over to a plush chair on one wall, accompanied by another. What, was your killer going to converse with you? Were they going to say, after you told them your life story, "Okay, I'm going to kill you now"?

No.

Saphire sunk back in the chair, closing her eyes. Her breathing was heavy, and she looked like she was going to be sick.

Scott clenched her hand, rubbing circles on it, trying to calm her.

Saphire leaned over to a potted plant and dry-heaved, the acid of her stomach emerging. She hadn't eaten in hours, and she convulsed as her body tried to rid itself of the food and poisons that were not there.

Saphire breathed deeply and swallowed. "I'm okay. I'm sorry you had to see that…"

"It's fine. Are you sure you're okay?" Scott asked, concerned.

Saphire nodded weakly. "I'm fine, I'm just so hungry… and… it's okay. Let's go. If we want to get home with minimal attacks from mutts, we need to go kill some people."

Scott nodded and helped her up. She staggered, and Scott caught her. They looked at each other, and Saphire pressed her lips against his.

They stood kissing, a moment, when suddenly something hit Saphire's head. She jumped backward in alarm, and the parachute landed in her hands.

"A gift!" Saphire cheered. She opened the package attached to it, revealing a loaf of bread, two liters of water and some fruit. "It's food!"

Scott smiled, looking down at the box, then at Saphire. He sat back down, and gave a slice of bread with cheese to Saphire, and ate one. They both drank a half-liter of water and stood up. "Let's go."

The pair walked, until they came to an intersection. They stopped, unsure which way to go.

To their left, a snarl of anger called out.

"I'll kill you! You cannot beat me! You'll have to come down sometime!"

Saphire looked up at Scott, a flash of fear in her eyes. "Alex!" She hissed.

"Oh yeah, keep climbing, you little babies!" Alex sneered up as Collista, Clea and Daniel continued to scramble up the window. "Run away. I'll kill you! You cannot beat me! You'll have to come down sometime! I'll just wait down here with my _food_ and _water _until you starve!"

Alex picked up the large bag she'd brought with her. She unzipped the zipper and dumped the contents on the ground. Ten daggers, a spear, extra spearheads, and an extra sword fell out. Then a canteen of water, five liter bottles of water, and food. Tons of food.

Ten apples, two loaves of bread, three bananas, cheese, a few packs of dried fruit, an orange, and a suspicious looking bag all called out to Collista, Clea and Daniel, making their mouths water with hunger. Alex even had a six-pack of pop.

Alex picked up the small plastic bag and opened it, sticking her hand into it. She pulled out a chocolate chip cookie. "I know you want this!" She bit into it teasingly.

Alex organized her provisions, laying out her strange array of knives, her spear, extra sword, and food. She munched on a cookie, looking up at the trio engrossed in the way the huddled together, talking. They had laid out their own provisions, two daggers, a half-bent spear and a few rotten apples.

Clea was gesturing urgently to her hand, speaking in low whispers. Alex could only catch part of what she was saying.

"- when she goes to sleep!"

"I won't be falling asleep anytime soon!" Alex mocked.

The trio jumped nervously.

"I could try throwing my knives…" Collista suggested.

"If she dodges, she'll just have more weapons and we'll have less."

Alex said nothing. They would soon tire out. She opened a soda and drank it greedily, munching on another cookie. She pulled a couch over from the other side of the cavern, setting it right by her provisions with a good view of what Clea, Collista and Daniel were doing.

Alex plopped down on the sofa and looked at her bloodstained spear. "Such a good weapon. She looked up at her enemies. "I've killed three people with this spear. They were so easy to kill. Weak and undeserving. Just the toss of a weapon, and the cannon fired. At least _you _put up a fight. But that won't last long. Soon my list will double in size."

The trio shivered as her cold-eyed glare bore into them.

Alex lay back on the sofa, completely at ease.

_Soon, I'll be home, and I'll be a victor. _She thought to herself. _I guess my list already is doubled in size._

_Mom, Dad, Chad. The two in the bloodbath, Drew. But none of them meant anything. I just have to get home for Aunt Nettie. She's the only one who matters._

Then Alex sank down in her seat. How disgusted Nettie would be with her. She hated the games. And now that Alex was in them, she was turning into a monster. No, she became a monster the day she ran out of the flame-filled house, leaving her mom, dad and brother trapped inside. Her parents stayed with the baby, and their charred remains were found huddled together.

But Alex had to get home. She would not die, she could not face the horrible fate that awaited her. She had to get home to Aunt Nessie. A single tear slipped out, and she quickly wiped it away, before the Capitol could get a good look. She wouldn't cry.

_I'll be home soon, Aunt Nessie. I promise. I'll do anything to get home to you._

Chapter 11:

Back to Reality

"What do we do?" Saphire hissed.

Scott put a protective hand on Saphire's shoulder, fingering his blood-stained sword with the other. "We should go the other way."

"Scott, it's been a day since there's been any deaths, and the Capitol will be getting restless. I've been in this arena practically two weeks, and I'm ready to be home! I'd rather die in there than be devoured by mutts like Rebecca. Alex is talking to someone, that means there's at least one other person there! C'mon, let's go kill them!" Saphire protested.

"Is it too much to hope they simultaneously kill each other?" Scott said.

"Yes!" Saphire growled. "Please!"

Scott looked down into her deep green eyes. "Promise me."

"Promise you what?"  
>"To be careful. And if I get hurt… leave me. Or kill the others. Either one, just make sure you get out of there alive."<p>

"Scott…" Saphire protested.

"No! Promise!" Scott growled.

Saphire was taken aback in the sudden urgency in his voice. His brown eyes were burning with a fire she'd never seen before. "I- I promise."

Scott nodded, the harshness leaving his face. He put his hand behind Saphire's neck, and kissed her longingly.

But Saphire shivered with the feeling of the kiss. It had a sense of finality to it; as if something might happen to them. It was filled with a flurry of emotions, all of which Saphire had never felt before, with no one except Scott. It was filled with love, loss, sacrifice, determination, and doubt. But she loved the feeling. And she never wanted it to end.

Too soon, the kiss ended, Scott took her hand, and the pair grabbed their weapons. Saphire loaded her bow, making sure her arrows were slung on her back. Scott gripped his sword, and had the backpack securely over his shoulders. They took a deep breath in unison, and charged toward Alex's voice.

The cavern was huge. The high ceiling held elaborate chandeliers, and high, arched windows soared into the heavens. Across from them was a large window, with a beach behind it. An old, moth-eaten velvet sofa was in front of the window, seeming out of place. Alex's voice came from the sofa, and Saphire finally spotted her.

She was lying on the sofa, and on the floor in front of her was a mass of supplies. She was sneering up at the window, and Saphire gasped quietly as she spotted two girls and a boy up the window about twenty feet. Part of the curtain had been sawed away, and lay in a crumpled heap on the floor.

Saphire and Scott surveyed the situation. Saphire aimed her bow at Alex quickly, and Scott gripped his sword.

A girl squeaked. Collista Roseline had spotted the pair, and gasped aloud.

Alex jumped in alarm at the sound, whirling around wielding her spear to face Scott and Saphire. "Oh, so the cowardly couple has finally decided to face me," Alex smiled.

Saphire did not lower her bow. She kept it trained on Alex's face, right between her eyes.

Alex did not flinch. "Have you come to rejoin me? To let me be your leader? Or have you come to meet your death?"

"None of the above," Saphire said. "We have come to obliterate you."

Alex laughed without humor. You? Kill me? Ha! Never."

Saphire and Scott glanced at each other, and nodded slightly.

Scott rushed at Alex, wielding his spear. They began to fight, parrying and striking. Neither of them got a hit, but still they continued in an endless dance.

Saphire ran forward. Daniel Williams, Collista Roseline, and Clearose Smith were helping each other climb down the window. Collista and Clearose were on the ground, urging Daniel on. Both girls had a dagger, and Daniel had a spear.

Saphire held her bow, unsure who to shoot first. Daniel looked up and saw Saphire, his eyes widening. "Run!" He shouted to his allies.

Collista and Clea spotted Saphire, and Clea bolted. But Collista was unsure. Her eyes lingered on her boyfriend's figure, still five feet from the ground. She glanced at Saphire, the cold features of her face showing no emotion.

Saphire let the arrow fly, and it pierced Daniel's back. His body fell, shattering against the floor like glass. A sickening, harmonious crack rang out as several of his bones splintered. His chest caved in as his spine broke.

The arrow was pushed farther into his body, and the shaft broke. His spear clattered to the floor, splashing in the pool of his blood. His once handsome face was broken in death; the horror of a final scream that would never be heard on his lips. Blood trickled out of Daniel's mouth, staining them red. His limbs were turned at odd angles. Daniel's eyes were glassy, his features distorted from the fall. He looked like a sickening creature from Hell, come to forever haunt Collista. The body was lifeless and still, it was an empty shell of the boy Collista had loved.

Daniel's cannon rang instantly, his death had been quick. Collista knew he was gone. There was no saving him. She staggered away, following Clea and praying Saphire would not follow her.

She should have known by her day so far that would not be so.

Irene was fighting an endless battle. Her arms screamed in agony, her leg even more so. Her ankle was twisted and swollen, probably sprained. Half her arrows were fifty feet away, very few accompanied with the body of a bird. She only had her knife and six arrows left, and the bow was crumbling underneath her fingers.

Juan screamed from in the tree, his clothes were tattered and his face was covered in burns from the acid. Something plummeted to the ground, Irene only caught a glint of silver, and there was a clash as it hit the stone ground of the courtyard. It must've been his token. Anger flashed behind the boy's eyes and he lashed out at the birds, making a wide ark in the air with his arm.

Three birds fell, squawking in pain, and more clangs as their golden wings hit the ground. Juan attacked with new power, slashing and stabbing as if he'd been doing it all his life. Soon, there was a pile of birds below him, only a few more flapping around him.

Seeing this, Irene went into a new wave of energy. Her arm swerved with energy, the knife became a deadly swinging machine. All around her, birds were falling. The clang of their golden wings on the ground was harmonious, like one single chime instead of many.

Suddenly, the court was silent. There was a final squawk of a bird, and a few last clangs as wings hit the ground. The air was still.

Irene turned to Juan, uneasiness covering her features. _Is it over? _Her eyes begged.

Juan looked at her. "It's over!"

The ground was littered with golden wings and the devilish birds. Irene inspected herself. Her forehead was bleeding; some of her hair had been torn out by the birds. Her skin had burns from the acid, and some of her clothing was ripped, but she was in fairly good shape… aside from her ankle.

Irene crawled across the ground and dug through the pile of wings until she found a glint of silver. It was a silver, ornate cross with carvings of trees and wildlife tied on a green thread. Irene held it up, showing Juan. "I… I think this is your token…"

Juan smiled. "Thanks."  
>He slid down to the ground slipped it around his neck. Then, he took one look at Irene's ankle and grabbed the first aid kit. He wrapped the bandage around her ankle and bandaged her forehead. Then, Irene helped heal Juan's cuts. They looked around the courtyard, glittering with gold.<p>

"Juan, we really did it! We survived. You did good! You killed them."  
>"I didn't want them touching my token," Juan said stonily, fingering the cross.<p>

Irene didn't ask why he was so close to the piece of jewelry. It was personal.

A silver parachute floated down through the air, a welcome sight from the cloud of black. Irene picked it up and looked inside. It was a tiny vial, which she uncorked. It smelled clean, like herbs. "Ointment!"

There wasn't a lot of the medicine, but it would be good enough. Irene rubbed the cream on her face and arms, then helped rub it onto Juan's back, which was covered in scars, both old and new. The area was deeply penetrated by acid, and was turning yellow.

Irene closed the jar and put it in the backpack. She looked out across the courtyard. The already frayed tiles were cracked and destroyed from the acid. Golden wings covered the ground, the trees were bowing down, their bark crumbling. Her bow was very tattered, and as she picked it up, it snapped in half. Her knives were starting to rust, getting duller and duller.

Irene cradled the broken bow in her arms sadly. Her perfect bow, the weapon that was going to get her through these games was gone. All that was left of it was dust, and the golden wings of its attackers.

Suddenly, the girl had an idea. She rushed over to a large wing and lifted it. The curved surface was perfectly sized, curved to fit her. All she needed was to shape it into the perfect crescent. In vain, Irene pulled her knife against the surface, only managing to get a loud screeching noise, like nails on a chalkboard. She groaned.

"Juan! If only I had fire, I could make us the perfect weapons! But we don't!"

"I might be able to make one…" Juan offered.

Irene nodded excitedly.

So for what seemed like hours, the pair tried to make a fire, even the tiniest spark, but they had no luck. They continued trying.

In anger, Irene took her already-damaged dagger and threw it, and it lodged itself in a bird's dead, red eye socket. The blade snapped, separating from the handle.

Suddenly, against the darkening sky, there was a flash of lightning. Rain began to pour down around them, and Irene was soaked within seconds. Against the blackness, in another flash, there was a dark shape, illuminated by a flash of lightning. It was a tiny, silver parachute, rocking precariously in the wind, trying to reach them. It blew into the tree above, snagging on a branch.

"Juan!" Irene squealed. She pointed to the swaying parachute.

"I'll get it!" Juan began crawling up the tree trunk. His finger was inches from ripping the sponsor gift of the branch, when there was a flash of lighting, striking the roof. Tiles flew everywhere, and a fire began, only to be extinguished by the torrential downpour. A tiny, dark shape was illuminated by Juan's fingers; and in the next flash, the gift was no longer there.

Chapter 12:

Falling Apart

Juan looked up, and as the lighting flashed, the sponsor gift was gone.

The boy skittered back, bracing himself against the trunk. "Irene! Is the gift down there?" He howled into the raging air.

"I don't see it!" Came the faint reply.

"It's gone!" Juan cried.

"WHAT?"

Juan searched around in the dim light, but the gift was nowhere to be found.

Suddenly, something rustled the leaves below. Juan followed it, until he hit the ground running. He turned back for a moment; Irene was using a branch to hobble toward him.

"Keep an eye on that thing!" Juan shouted. He flung their bag over his shoulder, grabbed the blanket, and several wings, and then rushed off toward the animal. Irene followed him as fast as she could.

They came upon a large, rotting wooden door. The animal scampered through a hole in the wall, and in the dim light, Juan made out the figure of a squirrel. He prayed it was a normal squirrel.

Juan turned the knob and threw his skinny body against the door. With a creak, it fell open, revealing the clammy, musty halls of the church once more. Juan shivered. It was a cruel awakening, reminding him after his safe haven, he was still in the Hunger Games.

They rushed into the hall. Juan dumped the supplies, and Irene, on an old couch and sprinted after the squirrel. He launched himself at it and brought his knife down on it. The thing's skull was crushed, and the gift fell out of its tiny hands. Now Juan could see that its fur was red and its teeth sharp and pointed. It was definitely a mutt.

Juan pulled the gift away from the tiny muttation and brought it back to Irene. He tore the parachute away. "Matches."

Irene shivered. "Let's get out of here!"

Juan nodded and they went over to the door. Once again, Juan turned the handle. The door didn't budge.

"No!" Juan groaned. He heaved harder. "No! It's locked!" After trying again, he slid down the wall and put his head in his hands. Here, with the church creaking, the paintings staring at him; more than ever he could feel the Capitol watching. He knew the Gamemakers would be at the controls; they sent that muttation to lead them away from their safe courtyard, to bring them back to the horrid reality of the games. He felt the ghosts of the dead tributes, and the spirits of the live ones, whispering around him. Death lurked around the corners, but he had known this would happen sometime. He was officially back in the Games.

Irene was the calm one this time. She put a hand on Juan's shoulder. "It's okay. We have matches!"

She took a wooden chair, and with Juan's knife, broke it apart. She threw the wood on the floor and put the golden wings around the wood, as if to prevent the fire from spreading. She wet the floor below the wood, and lit a fire.

Irene took the first wing, and, with her makeshift cane, held it into the embers. It soon was red-hot, and she took Juan's dull knife to form a less complex, but more sturdy knife out of a feather. It was soon deadly. The girl made a few more knives, wetting them to let them cool, and then started on her bow and arrows.

Before long, they had a flurry of perfect weapons; about fifteen knives, a bow and more than a dozen arrows, and a cane for Irene. And they were finished just in time.

A voice boomed out, and though it didn't sound close, it sent chills down Juan's back. It seeped through the thin walls, echoing in the deep, dank corridors of the church, making the enemy sound as if they were right behind Juan, whispering into his ear. It was filled with malice.

"I'll get you!"

Juan fingered a knife, it was finally cooled. He picked it up, feeling a sudden burst of anger and bravery. "Come and get _us_! We're finally back in the games!"

There was a cackle in response, and then silence.

As Scott slashed and stabbed with his sword, his energy slowly ebbed. At first, he'd thought he'd have an advantage against Alex with a sword against her spear, but she was a very experienced warrior, and she battled with a maniac smile on her face. And now, it seemed like Alex was the one with the advantage.

Scott kept fighting though, and every time Alex's spear neared him, he thought of the promise Saphire had made to him. But she was already gone, chasing two girls who had fled when she killed the boy from eleven.

"I'll get you!" Alex screamed. It was the first time either of them had spoken.

Someone else's voice boomed out, sounding smaller, but still fierce as it bounced around them. "Come and get _us_!" There was more, but it was cut off by a searing pain in Scott's shoulder. He fell to his knees, his eyes watering. Alex stood over him, her spear dripping with his blood. Her face was filled with hatred and glee as he lay under her, paralyzed.

The Career girl cackled as she put her spear tip to Scott's throat indecisively, then changed her mind and moved her spear to his forehead, then his chest, and finally, his lips. Her eyes burned with malevolence, but behind them was something else; remorse?

Alex shifted her spear almost casually, and began pushing the spear-tip into Scott's lips. Immediately, a crack appeared and his lips turned blood-red. She moved it to his forehead and turned her spear so the blood smeared back onto his skin. She made a shaky 'X' with it and looked into the dying boy's pained, brown eyes. Blood seeped out of his shoulder wound, and his eyes were watering and muted.

"Thanks for playing. But I'm the true victor. I'll make sure your girlfriend joins you soon."

She stepped back, as if surveying a piece of art, and positioned her spear, her eyes locked on the bloody 'X' on Scott's forehead.

Then the spear left her hands and Scott's world dimmed.

Saphire turned as she heard Alex guffaw. There was a groan from a boy. Far ahead of her, the two girls were sprinting. They came to a T-section and split up. She didn't want to give up, but her fear for Scott overcame her.

Saphire turned and ran back towards the cavern. She heard Alex talking, talking as if she would to a corpse. No, no Scott couldn't be dead. His cannon hadn't rung. And obviously Alex wasn't hurt. Saphire prayed she'd get there in time.

She turned the corner the cavern to see Alex launch her spear, and blood gush from Scott's head. He screamed in pain and fell back, his head cracking against the floor. His body convulsed, his eyes had gone milky with blindness.

Saphire's eyes filled with tears. She pulled her bowstring and let the arrow fly.

Alex dodged quickly, laughing with delight. "Want to say a final goodbye to your boyfriend? I can easily reunite you two!" She said, swinging her spear back and forth. Scott's blood dripped off the point, landing in patterns on the ground. Bile rose in Saphire's throat.

"He's not dead yet!" Saphire growled.

Alex just laughed. Saphire shot another arrow while she was distracted. It lodged itself in her right arm; her throwing arm.

Surprised, Alex almost dropped her spear. Her eyes widened and she whispered something like, "I promised Aunt-" then she rushed off, grabbing what supplies she could, then she sprinted away.

Saphire turned and rushed over to Scott, flinging her bow to the side. She cradled his bloody face in her hands, his milky eyes widened in alarm.

"It's me, Scott. It's Saphire."  
>The fear left Scott's eyes, replaced with sorrow. "You have to win! Please!"<p>

"I'll try," Saphire said. "Scott, you're not going to die, though!" She said in vain.

"Saphire, be real." Scott hissed. "You know I'm going to. I've got two fatal wounds. I'll be killed with this blindness if the brain damage or loss of blood doesn't kill me first!"  
>Saphire could not say anything. She pressed her lips against Scott's, despite the vomit the blood threatened to bring.<p>

"Saphire… help my sister. Help my family! Don't let Lexi die."

"I won't," Saphire promised. She could see Scott fading right before her eyes. His words were weak, his breathing shallow.

"I love you," Scott whispered.

"I-" A single cannon interrupted Saphire. She put her hands on the boy's chest, and it was still, not a beat nor breath to be felt. "I love you Scott. I always will," She whispered to the corpse.

Then an avalanche broke the undying silence.

The running from behind Collista stopped. She snuck a peek around the corner and found the hall empty; Saphire was not chasing her anymore. A tiny tear seeped out of the corner of her eye, but she wiped it away. Daniel was gone; but these were the Games. And Collista was _not _going to let his memory fade without a fight. She felt a smoldering, unnamable loathing for Saphire Troy, and she would make her pay. Soon, another cannon rang out. She hoped it wasn't Saphire's, she wanted to kill her herself.

The sadness she had felt for only a moment was completely gone. The picture of Daniel's broken, bloodied body replaced the one of him laughing and smiling at her, holding her hand. It felt as if his spirit was next to her, urging her on. She saw in her mind's eye the cold, expressionless mask Saphire had worn when she had killed Daniel. And that was nothing like the gleeful, malicious picture of herself Collista saw; with Saphire bloodied and dead on the ground under her.

A rumbling threatened to interrupt Collista's hate-filled, gory daydream. But she could not wake from it until there were screams, and she was aware that she might be in danger.

Clea felt bad for Collista, but she almost wanted to laugh at her. _I bet you're not saying to yourself 'it's the games, its okay! There's nothing you can do now! He's dead, just move on!' _

She ran through the haunting, dark halls, even as a rumbling and cannon rang out behind her. She heard the faint screams of others, and felt the dark shadows of the church around her. Clea had snatched the rotten apples, but Collista had taken the knives. She had looked back just enough to see Saphire shoot Daniel, and milliseconds later his cannon had rung.

Clea needed to find weapons and more food, but the night was falling, and…

The room she had just turned into was on fire.

Chapter 13:

Fire Within

The ceiling overhead rumbled and shook, lights flickering. Collista jumped up, shaking her head to clear her mind as more screams echoed through the church. She ducked her head and ran, ran to nowhere in particular, only away from the screams. Then, new screams joined the chorus, sounding out in horrifying harmony. A few of them she recognized.

Perry Leeman screamed into the night, his pain also echoing his inner insanity, and anger.

"Augh!" Dalton cried out as the knife settled in his stomach.

There were two hair-raising, horrid yells, which brought back the day when the mutts had come, when Alex had trapped her and her allies. Could it have been only two days ago?

Collista slammed her palms against her ears, trying to block out the pain, and find the source of the sounds from the past. The church was no longer crumbling around her, but there was nothing to show what might be causing the screams.

Collista carefully pulled her hands away, only the push them back against her head when the muffled screams broke in again. She stumbled forward, her head pounding. She found a large, regal looking door and pushed it open, rushing forward without looking at her surroundings. The door swung shut behind her, quieting the noise, and Collista looked around in awe, her hands falling to her sides.

She was in some sort of chapel, or sanctuary. There were little rows of pews, and an old, polished table at the front with communion on it, and a miniature cross. There was an ancient piano in the back, and a beautiful, large cross in the middle. There were stain glass windows on the walls, and an empty baptism tank in the front.

The screams were no longer there, and Collista walked slowly over to the piano, pressing a key expectantly. The note rang out, beautiful and clear, though slightly out of tune. She quietly pressed a few keys, playing "Joy to the World" for a moment. She looked away, scanning the room again. She approached the communion table, but she had seen poison in the games, and was hesitant to take it. Instead, she kneeled in front of the cross and said a quick prayer.

_Watch over Daniel. I will win for him, but I pray that you help me through this. Amen._

Then, Collista left. If she was going to win this, she couldn't stay in a chapel. She couldn't kill in there. And the faster she killed, the faster she went home. As the door slammed behind her, yells rang out.

Saphire was torn away from Scott as the ceiling crashed down on her. Dust filled her eyes, making her cough. She screamed out as the rubble began to pile around her. Clawing her way out of the mound, the dust made her blink. She could not see a thing. Saphire vaulted away from the heap, hopping lightly over the rubble, praying not to step on Scott. She dodged the still falling wreckage, and made her way blindly through the dust and debris, hoping she was heading for the door. Her quiver was still slung over her shoulder, but she did not have her bow, she'd lost it when she was flung away from Scott.

The girl ran into something, the couch! She rushed around it with her hand as a guide and kneeled, carefully trailing the ground with her hand. She found a spear, and quite a few daggers. She slid as many as she could into her belt. There was tons of food, but she had no bag to carry it in, the backpack was still on Scott's back.

The air was clearing, and Saphire was able to see. The walls around her were fallen, the roof had caved in. She was in the open, next to a beach. There were piles of rubble around her. Saphire looked around desperately. Scott was buried under the rubble, and he was dead; there was no helping him. But she needed the pack! Saphire walked to about where Scott's body had been and started pawing her way through the rubble. She sat back on her heels and looked around.

Saphire jumped up in excitement and rushed over to where she saw a piece of red in the rubble. She dug through the pile and pulled out Scott's body, brushing the debris off his once beautiful, now marred face. She cut the bag off his back and lay him down, trying to dust some of the grime away. She pushed his hair back and looked down sadly. Her hands came away bloody, and a tear splashed down onto her dead boyfriend's cheek.

The once-career then went back to the couch and tossed all the food she could into the bag. She kept searching through the rubble, until she found her bow. It was slightly bent from being buried, and was covered in grey ruins, but it would hopefully still work for her.

Saphire slid the backpack on her back, along with her quiver. She experimentally fired an arrow. It was a bit hard to shoot but was still on aim. Walking back into the halls, Saphire knew she'd never rest until Alex was dead.

As she sprinted through the corridors, Alex felt like a total coward. Her blood was no longer flowing from the wound on her arm; she'd taken part of her sleeve and wrapped it around the wound. But Alex had remembered when, in the Justice Building, Aunt Nettie had come to visit her.

"_Alex, promise me these games won't change you!"_

"_Auntie, I can't promise that. I'm sorry, but I'm a Career. They'll expect me to be a cold, hard killer!"_

"_Okay, Alex. Whatever, just try to stay who you are. But, promise me you'll come back home in one piece, without any injuries!"_

Alex had laughed, feeling confident and cocky that she'd be home. _"I promise!"_

When Saphire had shot Alex's arm, she'd known there was no way she'd be able to fight with her left arm. She'd remembered the promise. "I promised Aunt Nettie…" She'd mumbled. Then the career had rushed out of the room. Seconds later, a cannon fired and there was a large, long crash.

Alex stopped now, looking back. She had lost most of her supplies in her hurry to leave. She'd grabbed two liters of water, a few apples, cookies, a loaf of bread, five knives and an extra spearhead. She supposed Saphire had the rest. But Saphire would die soon.

Alex raised her chin and looked up, as if looking straight through the cameras and televisions.

"Aunt Nettie," she said. "I _swear _I will get home. I _will _win these Hunger Games for you! For us!"

Irene stood carefully, using her cane to support her. "Juan, calm down!"

Juan took a deep breath, calming himself. "I know." He did know. He'd never be able to kill anyone, but he had felt a sudden burst of energy and anger. He looked around, unable to sit here doing nothing. The fear that the church thrived on was beginning to replace the momentary anger. "We should get moving."

Irene nodded. They gathered their weapons, and Irene was about to put out the fire when Juan stopped her. "No, leave it! We don't have that much water left, it'll die out."

Irene looked doubtful, and she'd probably seen more fires than Juan, living in twelve, but she nodded. The duo walked away, Juan carrying the supplies. They'd left the few remaining wings in the embers of the fire; hopefully they'd melt before someone found them and tried to make their own weapons.

The pair continued walking, exiting the room back into the corridors. Irene kept her bow loaded, and Juan held his knives. They ran into no harm, until…

Clearose screamed and stumbled backward. The flames filled the hall, slapping her face. She coughed as the smoke filled her lungs, and her eyes watered and stung. In vain, she crouched down, but the fire still seemed to burn on the ground. What was this, anyway, some kind of cruel, idiotic Gamemaker's trick?

The flames hit her face and body, making her cry out in pain. She was covered in burns that were filled with excruciating hurt. Her skin was brown, red and bubbling, making her scream again. Turning back, Clea staggered away, trying to find the door. She ran into the wall and guided herself to the exit. Just as she reached it, the door slammed shut.

Clea yelled. "Augh!" She could almost hear the Gamemaker, Mika Crane, cackling with glee at her pain. She sent this fire. "WHY?" Clea demanded. She saw Dalton's face in her mind, his pain as he died. She fell into a dream, the flames and heat fading. She remembered the first date they had, the games not on their minds, death and danger not threatening their love.

"_When did you decide to ask me out?"_

"_I've liked you for a while, I was just waiting for the right time."_

"_Really? I've liked you for a while too! I was waiting for you to ask me!" _

Dalton had smiled._ "I'm glad."_

Clea then saw the night on the train in her mind.

"_Just remember, I'll always love you Clea. All I want is for you to win."  
>"Then why did you volunteer! We could've had a chance to stay together!" <em>Clea sobbed.

Dalton took hold of her hand._ "We could still stay together. Remember the 74__th__ Games…"_

"_Yes, that worked out great for them. They both lived. Then they started a war and had to go in the Games a second time! Dalton, I love you so much, but there's no guarantee in the Games. What would you do if I died before you?"_

A shadow had passed his face. _"I guess I would die too."  
>"NO! Dalton you can't do that! If I die, you have to keep going and win! If you die, I'll have to! Please, promise me. Either one of us wins, or both of us."<em>

Dalton hesitated, but then he kissed her, sighing in defeat. _"I promise, Clea. But I'm not making promises about after we win. I'll never love any girl as much as I love you, Clea."_

Now, as Clearose was devoured by the flames, she knew only that she could not win. But she had promised Dalton! She struggled against the imaginary chains that bound her to stay here as the flames destroyed her. She pawed at the closed door as she sobbed tears that wouldn't come. As the flames over took her, she screamed in pain, remembering Dalton's death, and her promise. But she just wanted this pain to end. Darkness replaced the malicious glow of the fire. She no longer breathed in the smoky air, for she no longer breathed.

A cannon fired in the fire-filled room, laughing as Clearose's futile attempts failed, and the Gamemakers won once again.

Chapter 14:

Split

As Collista scouted the haunting halls, a bloodcurdling scream rang out, followed by an echoing cannon. Her head snapped up. "Clea." She hadn't known Clearose well, and she had been bloody annoying when she was weeping over Dalton, but it was still sad she had died. But Collista didn't worry about it; she just told herself she had made it to the final five. She didn't care if she got home, but if she was going down, she was taking Saphire Troy with her. She felt such an amount of hatred for that wretched girl, it could blind her.

There was a horrifying scream not much later after the first, but no cannon rang out. Collista kept walking, expecting a cannon to startle her, or someone to appear and glare at her, trying to kill her. If that happened she hoped it was Saphire. The sooner she was dead, the happier Collista would be. The world would be better without her anyway. She was an assassin, who didn't feel anything when she caused death. She was worth nothing compared to Daniel.

Soon, she came upon two doors and pushed it open. The wood crumbled at her touch. The other side was charred and black. The room before her was filled with smoke, the heat almost singed her eyebrows.

Collista carefully stepped over the scorched ground, stooping down to hold a browned piece of white cloth. A haunting, horrible feeling overcame her. Someone had died in here. There were scratches on the burned door, their final attempts to escape. There was a faint imprint in the ashes from where their body had burned.

Collista shivered and ran out of the room, hopping over the beams of burned wood. She came to a pile of timber, the ground under it even more charred. Feeble flames still burned in the ashes. This was no Gamemaker's trick. Some substance flowed across the ground in tendrils of brownish heat, beginning to solidify. She stooped down to examine it, but resisted, not sure what it was. She stood, edging around the make-shift fire-pit and running until she exited the burned room. She soon noticed two pairs of faint, black footprints made with ashes. Did these belong to someone's murderers? Or had people just found the burning room like she had? Intrigued, and hopeful one set of footprints belonged to Saphire, Collista followed the footprints in a daze.

A blast of music made Collista jump. Above her, the ceiling was shining with the flag of Panem. Three faces shone in the sky. First came the boy from two. Collista smiled, hopefully that hurt Saphire a little. Next was Clea smirking down at her nervously, her eyes worried, and her smile sad. Too late, Collista tried to look away, but she still saw Daniel's face in her peripheral vision, smiling sadly, but determined at her. She looked up; wanting to show his spirit she'd keep going. "I'll win!" She said as her boyfriend's face faded to black.

Collista collapsed on a chair, suddenly exhausted. The day was finally catching up to her. Three dead in a day. Wow. She smiled. Hopefully tomorrow, it would be four.

Juan whipped around for the second time, his heart pounding, though they only woke thirty minutes ago, and hadn't done any running. No one had crossed paths with them.

"What is it?" Irene asked.

"I feel like someone is watching us!" He hissed.

Irene stroked her perfect bow. "If there is, we'll be fine! You've got tons of knives, and I've got my bow! We'll be fine."

The duo continued walking, but Juan was stiff. The hairs on the back of his neck were standing up; a shadow of fear seemed to ripple out behind him, making him shiver every time the ground creaked below them. But as time went on, he relaxed. If someone were following them, they'd have killed them by now.

When Juan's unease was almost completely gone, someone coughed behind them. Juan whipped around again, fear squeezing his chest, making it hard to breathe. A girl was staring straight at him, determination in her eyes. She held a dagger in each hand, ready. That cough had been intentional.

Irene seemed calm, but Juan could sense the fear she radiated. But her hand was on her bow, already loaded. "Collista," She said softly. "I'm sorry about-"

"Don't say it!" Collista hissed. Her face showed some recognition that these were people, not monsters. They weren't killers. And Collista and Irene had almost become allies in the training center, as Juan knew. "I'm sorry, Irene. But I _will _win for him."

Juan clumsily reached into his belt to unsheathe one of his knives, and he dropped it. He looked at Collista, and couldn't find the courage to stoop down and pick it up; sure it may land him a dagger in the brain.

Collista stepped forward, and Irene and Juan stepped back. They continued walking; only stopping twice, once when Collista stooped to pick up the knife Juan had dropped, and once when… Irene and Juan hit a wall. They were at another T-section, but they couldn't run. Collista was too close.

Irene raised her bow, and Juan shakily held up a knife, but at that moment, Collista launched the golden knife she had picked up. Irene shrieked as it landed inches from her face.

Collista smiled. "You make quality weapons." She felt horrible, but needed to win this. She raised a second dagger, aiming this one at Juan. As it left her hand, Irene bolted from the room.

Saphire sprinted through the halls as fast as she could, looking for two things. One: Alex. The faster that girl was dead, the better. She would make it painful. Alex deserved it. The second thing was the cornucopia; if she could find it. Her bow was cracked at the middle, and she had only a few more arrows. In the pack she had gotten from Scott there was half a loaf of bread, a liter of water, one knife, and some first aid utensils. She couldn't last on _that _long.

At one point, Saphire thought she heard Alex talking, but when she turned a corner, it was a stray mockingjay, sitting on the sill of a broken window. It was repeating Alex's tone, but who knew how long ago it could've heard her? Saphire slowed, starting to tire from running. She sipped her water sparingly, nibbling on a piece of bread. The pack on her back was stained with brown blood, Scott's blood. She couldn't wait to ditch it. It reminded her too much of what could've been.

Saphire saw a large, polished door and pushed it open excitedly, expecting to see the golden glint of the cornucopia. She ran forward, stopping herself just in time.

Saphire's feet dislodged pebbles, sending them down the seemingly unending abyss. She scuttled back, holding back a scream. She was on an unbelievably tall cliff. She could not see the ground at the bottom of the void, but heard waves crashing below. Saphire turned back in a huff, when the door slammed shut behind her. She tugged at the handle in vain, and it came off in her hand.

"Great. First Scott, now this."

She was locked out- on an unending cliff, begging her to jump to her death.

Alex stomped through the halls, getting annoyed. Her wound had stopped bleeding long ago, but it was burning with pain. But she would not show weakness, she couldn't. She just wanted to get home, get out of here. Her old vision of her easy victory of the Games had been squished, all because of Saphire. But she didn't have vengeance for her, she just had to win. If getting back to Nettie meant killing every single child, she'd do it. No matter how it 'haunted' her afterward. She'd seen tons of victors become drunks, but she wouldn't resort to that. She was tough, and she had to be there for her aunt. Always.

Alex found a mockingjay and glared at it. "What are you doing here, stupid bird? Why do you stay here with all this death?" The bird repeated her tone, and flew off.

Fatigue was overcoming Alex, and she slumped against the wall, a mirror above her. With a gasp, Alex fell backward, through the wall. The wall closed in on her, holding her in. She was in a secret passageway. She thought about exploring it, but she knew what lurked farther in… weapons, food, or mutts. She wasn't taking chances. She had found a handle and was about to walk away when she heard feet sprinting towards her. Alex stroked her spear and looked out through a window, where the mirror was.

Saphire Troy thundered to a stop, clutching a stitch in her side. The same mockingjay perched on a beam above, repeating Alex's tone to Saphire, but the girl did nothing about it. She looked straight at Alex through the mirror, but didn't seem to see her. She pushed her hair out of her face, oblivious.

Alex held back a laugh. One-way glass. Nice.

Saphire started walking leisurely down the hall, searching for something. Behind her, Alex slipped out of her hiding place and followed her at a distance, watching curiously.

Saphire came upon a tall door, and seemed excited. She pushed it open and ran out, not bothering to look. From farther back, Alex could see the purple sky, and the cliff. She held her breath, but sadly, Saphire didn't fall. She stood there a moment, hand on her chest.

_Quickly! _Alex's mind screamed. _Close the door on her, lock her out! That way if something gets her, or she falls, you aren't a murderer! Go!_

Alex smiled, creeping forward. She slammed the door, smiling as a key appeared at her feet. She pushed it in the lock and turned it, hearing a satisfying click. Saphire pulled and pounded on the door, to no avail.

Alex knocked on the door mockingly. "Thanks for playing!"

Chapter 15:

Even the Best Will Fall

Collista gripped her own knife, glaring at the pair; Juan Pierre and Irene Lions. They had a lot of weapons, but seemed utterly unable to use them. The golden knife of Juan's was lodged in the wall, inches from Irene's head. Collista didn't want to kill these people, but she promised herself and Daniel she'd win, and she wasn't about to back out and die now that she was so far in the Games. She raised her knife steadily, preparing to launch it. All of her soul was focused on the boy, cowering paralyzed against the wall. As she launched the knife, in her peripheral vision she saw a flash of blonde hair, and turned, expecting an arrow to pierce her, only to find Irene had fled from the room.

Juan yelped, not noticing his ally was gone, only focusing on the silver dagger slicing through the air towards him. He wouldn't be able to dodge in time, this was it. This was how he'd die. He gripped his golden knife, barely noticing as he flailed wildly with his subconscious mind. With a great clang and flash of silver and gold, there was a knife on the ground, and Juan stood, completely amazed. As he had flailed out, his knife had deflected the other. Collista stared at him with utter amazement, and, in the confusion, Juan suddenly realized Irene was gone.

As Collista stood, completely in awe, Juan looked around, bolting to the right, the opposite way from where his ally had gone.

Collista blinked away her incredulity to find an empty hallway. She stomped her foot, mad with herself for letting two opponents slip through her grasp when she was already so close yet so far from winning. She snatched up her fallen knife, dislodged the one from the wall and sprinted down the hallway, cursing herself and the Gamemakers for doing this to her.

Saphire pounded on the door in vain, growling. Then, she heard a muffled cackle. A very familiar, triumphant cackle. "Thanks for playing!" Alex laughed at her.

"Alex!" Saphire snarled. She felt a bump against the door as Alex slumped against it.

"How's the weather? I think it's a little too… _foggy _for my taste!" Alex taunted her.

Saphire ground her teeth, pulling a dagger from her belt. She stabbed at the door, making a small crack in the aging wood. She pounded again, deepening the crack until the blade snapped. She pulled out a second knife, pounding more against the door.

"What are you doing?" Alex asked, uneasiness creeping into her voice. "Saphire, don't even try. You are going to die! I am the winner!"

Saphire ignored her, stabbing the door repeatedly to widen the hole. She carved it out and shoved her arm through, opening the door and walking in, her knife in her hand. Alex stood in the hallway, her eyes wide, her spear gripped in her hand, Scott's dried blood on the tip. She narrowed her eyes at Saphire. "You put up a good fight, I'll give you that!"

Saphire slid the knife in her belt, pulling out her bow, her chest heaving with fury and loathing. "Yes, because I have something worth living for. Or I did, before you destroyed it."  
>"Sorry, but it's the game, and I do have something worth living for back home. So, I am going to win," She positioned her spear, prepared to kill Saphire without even a thought.<p>

Saphire raised her bow. "You are a murderer, Alex. You don't deserve to live."

"Every one deserves to live, Saphire. I just deserve to live longer than you. I will be the victor," Alex sneers.

"_YOU KILLED SCOTT!"_

Alex had nothing to say. She focused hard on Saphire's heart, ready to launch her spear, but Saphire was focused completely on Alex's neck, ready to pull the string without a second though, only revenge. Neither one could fire without the other retaliating. If one died, so would the other. There was no way out.

Saphire focused on Alex, a kind of fire rushing through her veins, thirsting for Alex's blood to be spilled. She needed balance, an eye for an eye. Even though Alex's life was worth nothing compared to Scott's. But it would at least ease some of Saphire's pain, give her some rest over Scott.

Alex was beginning to tire of this game. She had to keep going, to finally win this. And to do that, she had to kill Saphire, then the others. She raised her spear above her head, but before it left her hands, an arrow pierced her neck, and she fell, gasping for breath. She yanked the weapon out of her throat, letting the blood flow more freely. Her windpipe was crushed from the arrow, and the first realization that, she was going to die, permeated her mind.

Alex gasped, thrashing about, her body twitching. She attempted to sit up, looking up at Saphire, hatred in her eyes. "You!" She whispered hoarsely. She threw the spear lightly, and could feel the last breath coming. She couldn't see or hear, her head was pounding. She couldn't think, or even see to Saphire. "I'm sorry, Auntie!" She gasped, with a fleeting thought she'd never see her again. "I'm sorry! I love you!" Then, her head slammed back against the floor, and she was no more.

The legend that was Alex Snare had finally expired.

As Saphire fired the arrow, and it pierced Alex's neck. Saphire felt a surge of smugness as the once-so-cocky girl went wide eyed, and fell back. She pulled the arrow out of her neck and began convulsing on the floor. Somehow, she managed to stay alive and keep her mind as her life ebbed away. She weakly sat up, still holding her spear.

"You!" She mouthed. Saphire just stared at her. She had finally avenged Scott's death. Or, she would, as soon as Alex finally gave up and died. A sharp pain in her leg alerted her, and she crumpled to the ground, grasping her shin.

Alex's spear was wedged way up in Saphire's skin. She tried to pull it out, and when it finally came out, it was soaked in her own glistening blood, Scott's dry blood showing from beneath. Her new wound flowed with blood with a sort of crazy intensity, the bone peeking out from underneath. Alex's cannon fired, but Saphire couldn't even feel satisfaction. She fumbled with her bag's zipper, pulling out a bandage and wrapping it tightly around the gash. Within seconds, the white bandage was blood red. She wrapped a second bandage around it hurriedly, followed by a third.

Saphire stumbled over to Alex's body before the hovercrafts could come, and cut the pack off of her shoulders. Inside was a small amount of food, a few more daggers, and extra spearheads, but no bandages or medicine. Saphire backed away from the body, and the hovercrafts came to collect the body. Alex was finally dead, Scott was avenged. So how come Saphire didn't feel better? 

Irene felt a surge of panic as Collista threw her dagger. She really cared about Juan, he was an amazing kid, and she should help him, but she couldn't. And she couldn't watch him die. If she did, she would break down and cry, and then Collista would just kill her too. So as the knife drew nearer to Juan, she turned to her left and sprinted down the hall. She didn't stop running until she was gasping for breath. She collapsed against the wall, her chest heaving. There were no screams, no cannons. Was Juan really okay?

Irene wanted to hit herself. What kind of friend was she? "I am such a coward!" She muttered. She had left Juan for no reason. But she supposed it was for the best. It was the final five, and if it had ended up to be the two of them… she shuddered. A cannon rang out in the silence, and Irene looked up. Was that Juan? She scolded herself. She could not just sit here in a slump of depression, it was the Games! And, that cannon told her she was in the final four, just three people stood in the way of her arrive back home.

And she _would _get back home.

Chapter 16:

Back to Haunt You

The entire population leaned forward expectantly, holding their breath as a cannon fired, and Alex Snare was left dead by Saphire Troy's hand. The entire nation gasped, never expecting that Alex would have died, leaving the most unexpected final four; the one no one had imagined. There was Saphire Troy, the tragic, mourning girlfriend of Scott Daze who'd known him only one month. Then, there was Juan Pierre, whom no one would have guessed would make it this far from his one in training and total refusal to kill. Next, was Collista Roseline, who had showed she was _no _crybaby as she had seemed to be at the beginning. Lastly was Irene Lions; an amazing archer and feisty girl, who a lot of people seemed to be rooting for.

In district four, Nelly Snare sat alone by her fireplace, mourning the loss of her niece, no one there to grieve with her or console her. Miles away, in two, Anna Daze and her husband clutched hands with Jeremy Troy; little Emily hugging Saphire's little brother. They stood in a huddle, watching sadly and excitedly, hoping at least that Saphire would come home and keep true to her promise. In the hospital, Lexi Daze lay in her bed, looking up weakly at the small television in her room. "Oh, Scotty!" She whimpered.

At that time, in district seven, Martina, Dinnia, and Edger Pierre were in a tight embrace, watching the screen with worried faces; and in district eleven the Williams family was grieving while Collista's father stayed alone in his home, hoping his only remaining family member would return home. All of district twelve was gathered in the town square, hoping Irene would come home alive, not in a wooden box like Joe Smith.

Mika Crane turned to her fellow Gamemakers, her fingertips pressed together. "Okay, it is approaching the end. We need some big surprises, twists and turns. Ideas?"

Reese McAllen leaned forward excitedly, this was the best part of the games. "We know all of the remaining tributes are very connected to people who have died, or will die. We could somehow incorporate that into the final two or so, to bring them together!"

Mika nodded, the perfect idea forming in her brain. "Perfect! And _that _gives me an idea for right now." She turned to the man on her right, who was in charge of mutts, and whispered in his ear the idea. He nodded gruffly.

"I can make them in time," Blair said.

Mika smiled wickedly, showing off her pointed teeth. "These games are quite interesting! Now, Ainslie, drop the temperature ten degrees in the church. Blair, send out some rats and small mutts. Let's make these games the best yet."

The second-in-command Gamemaker, Bernadette, slammed her palm on the table. "Yes and the most violent!" They all turned to the screen excitedly.

Juan slumped against a wall, clutching at a stitch in his side. His breathing was hard in the still church, and he held back a sneeze as he breathed in the dust of the floor. He counted his weapons; he had twelve knives in his belt and one still grasped in his hand. The backpack was slung over his shoulder, inside there were quite a few apples and other fruits, a canteen of water and the small first aid kit. Irene had only the blanket and her bow. He felt a surge of sadness when he thought of Irene, than anger. She had left him. She had run when the situation was most bleak, leaving him to fight for himself. She left him to die. He let out an exasperated scream and threw his knife at the wall, where it clattered to the floor.

Juan jumped up, feeling stupid for what he had done as the knife fell to the ground with a large ruckus. He snatched up the weapon, threw his bag over his shoulder and resumed running down the hall. Even when screams echoed out, he didn't stop running. He skidded down a corner, then began sprinting again, until he ran, head on into a tall white, cracking door. He fell back, massaging his forehead. "What the?"

The young boy stood and pushed open the door cautiously, stepping back as the scent of the room hit him. The bitter stench of old blood mixed with the hypnotizing smell of food saturated the run down kitchen. Juan carefully stepped over the threshold, looking around carefully. He checked the pantry, which was full of amazing food, but Juan already had a lot of that. He walked forward to approach the fridge and hopefully find water when he froze. On the ground, there were scratches on the wood floor, along with a large, dried puddle of blood and vomit, and a lot of broken glass. Juan gulped; his throat closing. Someone had died in this room. And it was no murder, at least not by a tribute.

It had been a Gamemaker's trick… poison. Juan backed away, wanting to run from the room and not stop. But when he tried to turn the knob of the door, he found it stiff and locked. He heard footsteps approaching, and looked up. A girl with light brown hair and hazel eyes stepped forward, her face hauntingly beautiful, but cool. Something clicked in Juan's mind, and he screamed.

No, no. That couldn't be Skyler. She was dead; her face had shown in the sky only ten days ago. It had clearly said she was no more. Dead, gone. He remembered the day on the train, when she'd looked at him, only imagining him an obstacle. Now he was clearly something she hated.

"Hello, Juan," Her voice taunted. It sounded as if there were fifty Skylers talking at once. "You've come to join me. I've been waiting." The girl walked forward, examining his terrified face with her cold eyes. "I've been so lonely, Juan. Join me! Save me!"

Juan tried to flatten himself against the wall. "You- you were dead! You aren't here!" He tried to tell himself.

Anger flashed in the dead girls eyes. "They hurt me, Juan. Save me, join me. I can make it quick, we can be together. Please, Juan!" She said. "Give me your knife."

Juan shook his head, his entire body shaking.

"_Join me, Juan! GIVE ME THAT KNIFE!"_ When Juan didn't, Skyler reached into her belt and pulled out a jagged, iron knife.

Juan held on to his own knives, still shaking in his shoes but confused. _"You aren't real. You're dead!"_

Skyler lunged at Juan, her knife barely missing him. Juan attacked her, slashing wildly with his knife, tears running down his face. "No, no! You aren't real! You're not! You're dead! You've been dead for ten days. You're dead! Dead, dead, dead!" His knife cut through her clothes, but never made a mark on her skin. As Skyler turned, Juan stabbed at her back. The clothes ripped, revealing a lot of turning wheels and mechanisms. When the girl turned back, her skin was gone, revealing a metal skull.

Skyler was a robot, designed to haunt the prey until they were mad, then kill it.

And Juan had no way to destroy it.

Saphire collapsed on a plush couch, exhausted. She had no food and no water left. She closed her eyes, almost drifting to sleep, when a sweet-sounding, cruelly familiar voice woke her. She stood up, scared. When she saw who stood before her, tears streamed down her face, confusion filled her mind. But she didn't care. She was seeing her beloved Scott, love filling his eyes. "Saphire, I missed you," he said. His voice sounded wrong, but Saphire was blind with her love and sadness.

"Scott- but you were…"

Scott reached out as if to touch her cheek. "I'm here, though. But I miss you, Saphire. And she hurt me!"

"I know, Scotty. But I killed her. I killed Alex. I miss you too, but I'll win, like you told me to. I promise, Scott," Saphire said softly, sobbing.

"_It's not enough!_" Scott hissed. "I need you with me, I miss you. I can't be with out you, Saphire. Join me!"

"But- you're dead," Saphire whispered.

Scott held out his arms. "You can be with me, again! Please!" He pleaded.

Saphire felt something on her mind, but couldn't tell what it was trying to tell her. She just knew Scott was somehow here, wanting her to hug him. He wanted to be with her. And she wanted to be with him. She was hungry for more of him; the few short weeks they had shared had not been enough for her. She wanted to spend her life with him, to get married and have children and grandchildren. But because of the Games, she couldn't. So, when he held out his arms, waiting for her to snuggle into them, she didn't hesitate to.

But, when Scott's arms closed around her, Saphire knew something was off.

And she was totally right.

Because even though his body fit over hers just as it always did, it was cold and hard. Saphire went still and tried to back away from the hug, but Scott's arms were locked around her in an eternal embrace. She was in a cage against him, being crushed against his cold chest. He was squeezing her… hard, too hard…

A cackle ran out, freezing all the blood in Saphire's body. Her heart seemed to stop, and she turned her head to see her worst nightmare, something she'd never imagine.

Alex Snare stood behind her, the picture of health. Her face was a mask of pure hatred, and she held two spears; one trained on Saphire's face, the other on her heart. Saphire glanced around frantically, finally locating her bow on the couch behind Alex.

She had no way to defend herself.

And Alex was coming closer.

Irene heard tons of screams echo around the halls, but was completely exhausted, while still cursing herself for leaving Juan. The previous night, she had seen that the cannon that had shot was for Alex Snare, the one person she had not believed would ever die. Alex was the opponent she was most worried about, most scared that she would die at her hand. No cannons had rung out yet today, and danger seemed so far. Irene walked through the halls, pushing herself forward. She needed food and a place to sleep, a place where she could be safe and know when someone was approaching and easily pick them off. Lately, she'd been sleeping on lone couches in the halls, but that did not feel secure; she knew another tribute could easily come along and kill her in her sleep.

Irene was getting exasperated, feeling as if she'd never find a place to camp. She missed her garden, missed talking with Juan until the drifted off. No, strike that. She missed her small home in the Seam. She missed the coal dust everywhere, and her three brothers bickering all the time. She missed her friends from school, she wanted to be with them, hanging out together after school and giggling about the boys they liked. She missed her dad, and wondered if he was doing okay. Had the sickness taken over yet? Was he even well enough to watch her? Was he even still alive? These questions haunted her constantly.

But out of these, she also missed her mom, who had died only three months before Irene had been reaped. Not a day passed that she didn't miss her.

While Irene was consumed in her thoughts, she came across a large, wooden door. It looked awfully familiar. Carefully, she pushed it open, tense. She half-expected a flurry of mutts to run out, or another tribute. None appeared, but when something glinted, she jumped back, only to smile and stroll forward.

Irene put a hand on the object, then continued to explore. The cornucopia was still quite full; the Careers hadn't taken much from it. Irene found more arrows and a quiver, and filled it with her own arrows. She slid several knives in her belt, and then feasted on granola bars, water, cookies and dried fruit. She climbed onto a couch, settling down with her blanket and a pillow she had found. Then she fell into a deep sleep, still clutching her bow.

Collista sat up expectantly as trumpets sounded out, and the host of the Games, Bubba Frets, came on. "Congratulations to you all for making it to the final four! You will all have proved yourselves very worthy of being here in three hours, and we want to reward you with a feast. We hope you'll be okay enough to be there."

Collista snorted. _Yeah, right! No way!_

But Bubba interrupted her thoughts. "Now, you may be thinking you won't go, but we will have something very special for you there. A very _good _surprise. So, in promptly two hours, the halls will shift, giving you all a direct path to the cornucopia. You may want to come… we know you love your _families_!" With that, the trumpets sounded, signaling the end of the announcement.

Collista frowned, wondering what he had meant when he put emphasis on the word 'families'. And what did he mean; they would have proven themselves in three hours? We hope you will be okay enough to be there? Uh-oh. That didn't sound good. How did she have to prove herself? She wondered what would be waiting for her before and once she was at the feast, and if she even had a _choice _to go to the feast. Probably not, the Gamemakers would find a way to force her there. And, the way Bubba had said 'families' made her blood run cold. Were they holding them hostage or something? She shivered.

But about the no choice to go, Collista had been exactly right. Because when the floors shifted, they gave only one pathway to walk on, and a wall blocked her way from turning back.

And somehow, no matter how much she blinked and told herself there was no way it was possible, ahead of her stood her beloved Daniel, along with Dalton, Clearose, Perry Leeman, Drew Lancaster and Charlie BonBon; all of them held weapons, their eyes locked on her.

Collista shook her head; she knew that they were dead. She had also guessed the truth. These were Gamemaker creations.

"Oh, crap…" She muttered, holding up her daggers and preparing for the fight of her life.

Chapter 17:

From Memories to Mechanical

Irene cocked her head in question, waiting for more from Bubba, but there was no more to be heard, and the trumpets indicated the message was over. She felt like she'd have a major advantage over the others since she was already here. This could be her chance. By tomorrow, she could be in the hovercraft, on her way to the Capitol. She shivered. _Well isn't _that _great. At least after that I'll be home._

She stood, an idea forming in her head. What if there was a way she could ensnare the others as soon as they entered? She grabbed ropes from the cornucopia, making traps at all of the doors. She set up slingshots with darts, pointed at the door, and looped a rope over a beam and to her, so she could pull the rope and shoot. Next, she set up tons of other tricks. She found a match and set up a contraption over the door, making a way to let knives drop. When all this was ready, she swung down from the beam she was perched on and landed on the cornucopia. She climbed down to the ground, and then sat down on the couch, surveying the area. When a tribute stepped into the room and onto the platform, they would either be pulled up into the air by their foot then killed by the darts or their weight would set off the match, which would burn through the rope holding a knife that would kill them. It was perfect.

Irene lay back against the couch's back ticking away the seconds until the others arrived. She sat up, excited and confused when a voice alerted her. Was another tribute already here? She knew the three hours hadn't passed yet. And when she looked around and located the person in the room, her brain went on overload, trying to process what was happening.

Six clearly dead people stood before her, holding weapons from the cornucopia, the same determined look on all of their faces. Two of the bloodbath kills, Ella Clearwater, Joey and Rosie Montreal, and Wimpy Smart. They all glared at her, weapons raised. Somehow, even though Irene knew they were all dead, she tried to think of a battle plan, telling herself the two bloodbath kills and Wimpy would be easy. She vaguely remembered Ella had gotten an eight in training. Irene raised her bow, standing on the couch and aiming first at the weak tributes. She let the arrow fly, and it hit Sari Conton's chest right where she'd intended it to.

But it didn't pierce into her heart as it should've. The arrow bounced off of Sari's chest with a loud clang. Irene's eyes widened, and she began worrying. Her heart began to pound, the blood pumping in her head. She began firing at random, worry coursing through her veins. She kept shooting at the six dead tributes, hoping to kill them, but they only got mad. Wimpy hit one of her arrows away with surprising dexterity, and it landed on one of Irene's weight plates. A knife flew down exactly as it should have, clattering against the floor. She looked above her, the match was burning fully. She had a sudden, brilliant idea. She sent an arrow flying, and it landed on the ground next to Joey, who looked down at it without emotion; even when his foot caught on fire.

The six menacing tributes walked forward. Wimpy threw a knife, and it grazed Irene's forearm. Her shirt sleeve was ripped, and blood seeped out of the shallow wound. Then, they all began to attack. She was caught in a tornado of knives and darts, barely dodging the large spears and arrows. She felt several pangs as something hit her. Her six opponents were out of weapons. They went to the cornucopia, snatching up the first weapons they laid their hands on. They began to walk back over to her, Joey hobbling as his foot was gone and the fire was climbing up his leg. Suddenly, the fire caught on to Rosie, then to Ella. Finally realizing what was happening, they looked down and their faces contorted into masks of horror. They looked back at Irene angrily as the fire ate up at them. Their faces melted away, revealing turning mechanisms and wheels.

"Robots," Irene said, worriedly. And idea hit her, and she began grabbing bags and chucking them at the robots. She broke off the hilts of swords and knives, hitting the robots on the head. She climbed in the pile of stuff, snatching up a mace. She repeatedly struck the robots in the head, until they crumpled to the ground and dissolved into dust.

Irene fell to ground where she was, finally realizing her pain as the adrenaline wore off. Her entire body seemed to be coated in blood. She had the cut on her arm, one in her shoulder, three on her legs and thighs and a knife still lodged in her side. She clutched at her side and shoulder, then her thigh and every other part of her body; trying to find which hurt worst.

Irene looked up worriedly as a rumbling rang through the church, and screams rang out.

Juan screamed and slashed again, his knife clanging against the metal skull of the robot Sky. He kicked the mechanism in the chest, and it stumbled back, its metal feet struggling to find traction on the ground. Juan threw open the pantry door, searching for something, anything that could kill a robot. He vaguely heard what Bubba Frets said, but didn't care. All he was worried about right now was surviving, and killing that robot.

A hard, cold finger tapped on Juan's shoulder, and he whipped around. The robot spoke, still using Sky's voice. "Juan, stop fighting. They killed me, so if I kill you, you can join me!" She held up her knife, aiming at Juan. Her hand swung down, and Juan barely dodged the slice of silver. The blade grazed his shoulder, and his arm exploded in pain. He grabbed the first thing he saw- a loaf of bread- and hit the robot. The bread broke in half off of the robot's head, it didn't even notice.

Juan screamed again, clutching his shoulder with one hand. He dodged the knife again, looking at the robot worriedly. Then, he felt extreme anger at the Capitol. How could they do this? How could they kill children and call it entertainment, then make replicas of those children and make them horrible, murdering machines. They were ruining their memory, and they were only a memory because of them. If it weren't for the Games, there would be thousands more kids alive today.

Juan slashed out again, this time for the families of those who had died, and the hundreds of children who had died. He wanted to show that he wasn't just another sacrifice. Juan reached behind him again, letting go of his shoulder to grab a can of soup. He hurled it at the robot, hitting it in the chest and causing it to go crashing into the shelves behind it. Bread, chips, candy, fruit and cereal fell on the robot, dazing it. Its head got twisted around, and oil was seeping out of a hole in the skull.

Juan searched behind him again. He hit the robot in the head with three more cans of soup, and then smashed a bowl over it. The robot fell as it ran out of oil, and glass pierced Sky's eyes.

Juan stood, shaking, while the robot disintegrated. He ran out of the pantry, slamming the doors shut. He grabbed his backpack, pulling out the first aid kit and removing his shirt. He disinfected the wound with the small bottle of peroxide in the kit, and he bit back a scream as the wound burned. He dabbed up his blood with his shirt, and then wrapped his shoulder as best as he could. His bandage was already beginning to turn red with his blood, but he couldn't do much about it. Juan thought about what Bubba had said, and grabbed a lot more cans of soup and bowls, making a sack to hold them in and sliding it over his shoulder. He could guess now what the test was. And he was correct.

When Juan exited the kitchen, the halls shifted, and five robots appeared in front of him. Rebecca Smith and four bloodbath kills. Juan suddenly ran at the robots, screaming like a maniac. He slammed a can of soup into the robots' heads, and it burst. Tomato soup ran between his fingers, looking like blood. He grabbed another can out of his makeshift cradle and smacked the robots again. He broke two glass bowls over their heads, and soon, when he grabbed a can of soup and spun around, there were no more robots to be found. Around him was a circle of dust and globs of soup. He stepped over the ring of remains from the fight, and strolled through the door, grasping his knife.

Immediately, as he entered the cornucopia's room, he was pulled upside down, hanging in the air. He saw something coming toward him and swung to the side, barely missing the poisoned dart. He looked over and saw Irene sitting on a couch, surprise and pain flitting across her face.

Juan looked at Irene. "Well, this is an interesting reunion. Thanks for leaving me."

Collista held on to her knives as Daniel walked forward. "Collista. I miss you. Join me!"

She nodded, while her mind screamed _No! _Daniel smiled at her and opened his arms, sauntering forward to enfold her in a hug. When he was just a foot away, she opened her eyes as if she were going to hug him back, then kicked him hard in the chest. She felt a jolt up her leg as her foot connected with the hard metal. Daniel stumbled backward, a dent in his chest.

"Why did you do that?" He hissed, his voice cold and mechanical. He held up his spear, ready to pierce her heart, but Collista dodged, slicing the head off of the stick. The point clattered to the floor, and Daniel looked up with incredulity.

Collista kicked the robot of her boyfriend again, then reached behind her, grabbing a lamp base as Daniel, Dalton and Clea rushed forward, showing their weapons. Collista slashed out, her knife scraping across their chests with an ear-splitting noise. She tripped Daniel, kicked Clea and pushed over Dalton. She held the lamp up high, looking down at Daniel with pain and sadness. She knew he was dead, and this was just a robot, but her heart was full of pain as she raised the lamp above his head and brought it down. It hit the robot's head with a crack, and Daniel fell to the ground.

Collista stepped away, looking away from her boyfriend. _No. _She told herself. _That isn't Daniel. It's just a Gamemaker's trick! Don't look at him!_

Collista went over to Dalton next, slamming the lamp against his chest. There were cracks and buzzings as the mechanisms in the robot's chest fought to continue working. Collista hit Dalton again, and the lamp broke apart in her hands. Dalton fell over, his eyes going glassy and his skin ripping, showing the robot underneath.

Collista searched around desperately, her eyes landing on a small wooden bowl. She picked it up, hitting Clea over the head with it repeatedly while she lashed out randomly with her knife. The bowl could not do a great amount of damage, but it was all she had. Clea's head was turned at an awkward angle, part of her face was coming off, and her hair was falling out. Collista shook her head. _Not Clea! It's a ROBOT!_

The robot Clea fell over, still lashing out with her arm and knife. Collista stomped down on her chest, but the robot continued struggling. She stomped down again, but then screamed and pulled her foot up, grasping it. The knife Clea had been holding seconds before was pushed up through the shoe, into Collista's foot. She yanked off the shoe, taking the knife with it, and whirled around just in time for a spear to go hurtling by her face. Perry Leeman and Charlie BonBon stood near her, ready to kill.  
>Collista hobbled over to a table, picking up an empty metal candy dish and smacking Charlie with it. Kicking was out of the question now that one foot was bleeding profusely and unable to hold weight. Perry approached her other side, and Collista snatched up the first thing she saw… her shoe. She smacked Perry upside the head while still hitting Charlie in the chest. When the skin ripped apart from Perry's robot skull, and she saw the spinning wheels underneath, she had a sudden idea. She yanked Clea's knife out of the shoe and shoved it into Perry's face, stopping the turning wheels. The robot fell to the ground, disintegrating; taking Clea's knife with it.<p>

Collista turned to Charlie and did the same with her knife. She sadly took her last knife and stabbed it into Drew Lancaster's cocky face, twisting it so the skin crinkled and the wheels stuttered to a stop. She yanked the knife away just in time for the robot Drew to disintegrate.

Collista looked around sadly. She only had one knife left, and couldn't walk. Her foot was bleeding profusely, unable to hold weight. Also, she was about to face all of the other opponents. She broke apart a wooden chair, using a leg as best she could as a cane, and hobbled into the cornucopia's room.

Saphire struggled to escape Scott's grasp, screaming as he held onto her arm and twisted it behind her back. She heard a crack as the bone snapped. He turned her around so she faced Alex, still holding one arm behind her back and squeezing her other wrist tightly. He put his face next to hers, whispering in her ear. "Why are you trying to avoid me, Saphire. I love you."

Only now did Saphire realize what was wrong. His voice sounded multiplied, and it was too cold; mechanical. A shiver ran down her spine as she thought that, and she realized what Scott really was… at least now.

"You're a robot," Saphire said, mortified.

Scott's voice went even colder, like ice, or fingernails on a chalkboard. Shivers ran down her spine as he spoke to her. "Don't use that word!"

Saphire stuttered, the wheels turning in her mind as she attempted to hatch a plan to escape unscathed; well, aside from her arm. She screamed in pain as Scott pulled her already broken arm further behind her back. She tried to follow it with her body, but Scott stopped her, putting two of his fingers under her chin, squeezing the sides of her neck.

Saphire shivered and struggled to keep breathing while his freezing fingers pushed into her skin. "Please!" She pleaded, knowing it was useless. "Stop, Scott! I love you!"

Scott let go of her neck, then forced her head to turn and smashed his rock-hard lips against hers. Saphire shivered. She was kissing a robot.

Scott began sqeezing her arms against her sides, and Saphire resisted the urge to scream again. She kneed Scott in the stomach, breaking away, finally letting the tears stream down her face again. Her knee was positively bruised, now. And her arm was screaming in pain, hanging limp at her side, bend at an awkward angle. Saphire started sprinting, hoping to somehow get her hand on her bow and kill the robots.

Alex's arm came out of nowhere and snatched Saphire's already snapped limb limb, making her fall on her face, then pulling her up by her arm and wrecking it more.

Saphire screamed as Alex held one arm behind her back as Scott had, then put her strong arm around Saphire's neck, able to snap her neck with only a jerk of that arm. She realized now how stupid she'd been. Her arrows would be no use against the hard, almost-indestructible robots.

Saphire's entire life flashed before her eyes; and she remembered her promise to Scott. She had never thought that promise would be broken because of Scott. But, no. This wasn't Scott's fault. He'd been killed, and the Capitol was tarnishing his memory with this, ruining her chance to win. They had wanted Scott to die, they now wanted her to die, and then Lexi was going to die. They should not be in charge, they couldn't anymore. They killed innocent children for entertainment, and turned those innocent children into murderers.

Saphire screamed in pain and anger, all the pain she'd felt since the beginning of these games finally being released. If she did die, she was going to show how horrible the Capitol was. She kicked backwards, tripping the robot. It fell back, cracking its head against the wall. Oil flowed out of a crack in the skull, but still Alex stood and glared at Saphire. She rushed towards her, and Saphire dodged another blow by a millimeter. She brought up her knee again, forcing Alex back.

Scott caught Saphire, holding both of her arms behind her back. As he breathed freezing air on her neck, tracing her neck with his hand, ready to snap it, Saphire knew she had little time left. She looked up; as if looking at the cameras. "I love the real Scott Daze. And all I want is to save his sister. But- before I die- I must say one thing."

All seemed still in the church and Panem as everyone wondered what Saphire would say. Anna Daze clutched her family to her, holding Lexi's frail hand. She hugged Saphire's brother, wanting to tell him to shield his eyes from the scene on the screen. Jeremy Troy had his head in his hands, his fingers apart as he peered at the television screen worriedly. They gasped as Saphire said the words.

"The Capitol _stinks!_ They are monsters! We need to stop this madness!" Saphire felt Scott's fingers pressing into her throat but she finished the spiel she wanted to tell. "_I hate the Capitol! We need equality and freedom!"_

She screamed as robot Scott squeezed her throat, and then Alex sauntered forward. She was running out of oil, but kicked Saphire in the face, and a cannon rang out.

The six people in the hospital room promptly burst into tears, clutching each other.

Saphire was dead.

Chapter 18:

A Touch of Home

If Juan weren't hanging upside down by his ankle, he would have jumped when the cannon sounded out. But he kept his eyes locked on Irene, intent on staring her down as long as he was alive. He glared at her, accusing her of leaving him to die at Collista's hand.

"So, Irene. Did you set up this trap to finish me off? Surprised Collista didn't do the job for you?" Juan said, trying to keep the hurt from creeping into his voice.

Irene swallowed down the tears welling in her eyes. "Juan- no. I couldn't watch you die."

Juan could tell she was telling the truth, but while he was hanging upside down in her trap, he found it hard to forgive her. "Well, I guess you're going to have to; when all the blood rushes to my head in this trap, or Collista walks in." Juan assessed her traps. "I'm guessing when she walks in knives are going to fly down and kill her, one most likely hitting me too. I must be honest; it is hard for me to congratulate you on your cleverness right now."

Irene looked pained, like she knew not what to do. She gripped her bow, knowing it would be simple to kill him; but the effect would last on her forever. She knew Juan, had laughed with him in the courtyard, fought with him by her side, learned his life story. She could not murder him. She would hate herself if she did. So, as she looked at him; she looked away. "I'm sorry, Juan."

Juan felt a surge of anger, but as Irene turned away, he had his chance to escape. He swung back and forth until he grasped his leg. He felt a wave of pain as all his weight relied on his leg, but he gradually moved his hands up to the rope, where the cord was tied around his ankle. He knew knots, it was the one thing he'd done in training. And this was a very simple knot. With expert fingers he loosened the knot, still hanging on with his hands as his foot was freed. He swung away from the plate below and dropped to the ground, landing in a crouch and looking at Irene's turned back.

Juan snuck over to the cornucopia, while Irene was checking over her wounds, from what Juan knew not. He grabbed a few more knives, he couldn't have enough of those. He had dropped his makeshift sack, but he grabbed a sort of weight and slipped it in his pack. He hoped there were no more robots waiting for him, but he'd be prepared if there were. Just as he was about to turn and leave, a table appeared in the middle of the room, replacing the cornucopia. Irene's back was still turned, she hadn't noticed the table yet.

With a pounding heart, Juan snuck over to the table, grabbing two water bottles. He spotted three small stacks of blazing white envelopes, each with a name. His heart pounded as he snatched up the one with his name written on it. Sure enough, it was from his mother. He would recognize her writing anywhere.

Juan rushed back over to the rope he'd been hanging from, grabbed it and swung through the doors out of the room. As he landed, footsteps pounded behind him.

Irene stood in the cornucopia room, a safe distance from her weight-plate. She stared, open-mouthed at Juan. "How did you- it's not- you just…"

"Yes, Irene. I outsmarted you. You should never turn your back on an opponent in the Hunger Games," Juan said. Then, ignoring his own advice, he turned, running down the short hall to collapse in a plush chair and wait for the halls to return to normal.

With shaking hands, Juan tore open the first envelope and read it. It was a letter from his mother. Tears threatened to spill as he read her neatly written, worried words.

Dear Juan,

I've been so worried about you, honey. But I am very proud of you for making this far. I love you so much, you'll never know just how much, though. You are an amazing son, always have been. And no matter what happens, you will always be in my heart. You are the sweetest boy; and you definitely did not deserve to go into the games, though I suppose no one does. I must finish this letter know, the peacemakers are telling me to hurry up because these have to be ready to send for you at the feast. Oh, how I pray you'll be alive to read this. Remember, Juan, don't let friendships get in your way of coming home! I love you no matter what.

Your loving mother,

Martina

Juan tried not to cry. He opened the next one from his sister. This one was considerably shorter, but even more tear-provoking.

Juan, I miss you so much! All I know is I need you to come home! Please, Juan. I know we fight a lot. But I still love you. You are my brother, I'd cry if anything happened to you! I love you Juan, please remember that!

I love you,

Dinnia

Juan opened the last one from his father, who had always been tough, never expressing his love. This note was short, but it showed his father did care for him.

Juan, I don't tell you enough, but I love you. I'm sorry I've been so crude and haven't showed my love. It's just hard for me. Forgive me. I hope you come home.

Edger

Juan looked up, holding the notes lovingly in his hands. This was definitely worth risking his life. He wiped away the tears so they wouldn't splatter on the page. He tucked them back in their envelopes and slipped them into his pack. The boy took a swig of water and bit into some of his food. He laid his head back, still watching the door, hoping Collista or Irene would not appear. He couldn't face either of them. He couldn't kill anyone. He didn't even want to be here.

That was why, even this far in the games, when another cannon shot out, he jumped. He knew Irene had left him, and was supposed to kill him, but still hoped she was not the one who had died.

The halls shifted back to normal, and Juan turned, running away; as far away as possible. But it couldn't buy him much time.

Collista pushed open the doors, standing back uncertainly. She glanced in, Irene Lions was staring right at her, a bow grasped in her hands, a hateful look on her face. Collista knew she should turn back now, never walk through that doorway, but she wanted to kill Irene. She wanted to get home, she wanted to show Daniel she could win, and show Irene she would always be better than her. She only had the one knife, but there were still a few littered around the room, though the cornucopia was gone.

Collista was about to step forward, when she saw the silver plate on the floor. She carefully tapped it with her cane, and a tiny light overhead alerted her. A small match was burning a rope connected to… a knife!

Collista stepped back as the dagger came hurtling toward her. It hit the plate, but nothing else happened. Irene had no more traps. Collista stepped forward and snatched up the dagger, smug she had outsmarted Irene.

"Thanks for the dagger!" She taunted.

Irene just glared at her. Collista looked over her opponent, getting a feel on how she might handle a fight. This was what her mentor had told her to do. She noticed Irene was favoring her right leg, and was right handed. Collista smiled, at least they were close to even. She held one of her knives in her left hand as she always did, and Irene frowned. She knew that in a fight it was best to use the same hand as your opponent, but she held her ground.

So did Collista.

Collista stepped forward, using her makeshift cane for support, until it was yanked out of her hand. She almost toppled over, but managed to keep her balance. Three feet above her head, the wooden chair leg was dangling in the air from a rope. Collista groaned, looking at Irene.

"Smart, but not good enough," she commented. "It didn't catch me, and I can still walk without my cane," She said, though she wasn't certain. She hobbled forward, grabbing her other knife with her other hand, and staring coldly at Irene.

An arrow whirled through the air; missing Collista's head by inches as she stooped down to grab her foot. But she could not look weak, not now. She stood, leaning on her left foot. She glanced around the room, from the table with the feast, (Which made her stomach rumble), to Irene to the weapons on the floor. Among them lay a gleaming gold cane. Her heart pounded. She had to get to it, but how to without Irene killing her but she didn't know.

Collista looked at Irene, and, on a whim, hopped around the room, trying to make Irene dizzy. She looked over her shoulder at Irene, who had her bow raised again. She raised her hand and flicked the knife at Irene, still hopping towards the cane. She heard a clang as she stood with the walking stick. Irene's bow now had a sort of crack in the gold, and the knife was lying on the floor. She had somehow blocked the flying weapon with her bow. Collista smiled nervously. "Have your knife back!"

Irene just glared at her, disbelief on her face. "What was that?"

"Oh, lighten up! It's not like we are allies! Speaking of, how is your little ally, the one you left?" She asked.

Irene frowned. "Oh, he's fine."

"Are you sure? What about that cannon a while ago? How do you know I didn't finally kill him."

Irene glared at her, fire burning in her eyes. "No, you didn't. I know! I just saw him, it just so happens!"

Collista chuckled. "Oh, so he outsmarted you too?"

Irene scowled. "No!"

Collista said nothing. She began to circle Irene, and Irene circled her. She began to fire an arrow, but Collista easily dodged it. She could not throw her knife, it was her only weapon. She was preparing to charge at Irene, to try to kill her, when Irene fired another arrow. Colllista tried to dodge, but it still hit her in the shoulder. She cried out, clutching her left shoulder. This was not good. Not good.

Collista chose now to rush forward, knowing it was her only chance. She switched her blade to her right hand and ran forward. She swung around wildly, thinking of Daniel the entire time and hoping to make a hit. She felt her blade collide with Irene, and when she pulled away her hand, her knife was bloodied. Another arrow pierced her, this time in the stomach. She fell back, clutching her wounds. She lashed out again, and when her knife hit something, it slipped out of her hands.

"No!" She cried out. "Please, no! Daniel, forgive me! I'm sorry. I tried, I did!" She seemed to see his face drifting before her, and she reached out as if to touch her face. "I'm sorry I never killed Saphire. I am!" She felt tears tracing their way down her cheeks, but she couldn't see. She didn't know how much she hurt Irene, but she couldn't think about that now. She promised herself the last thing she'd see was Daniel. And it was. Collista only heard the beginning of the cannon, because she was dead.

Irene looked at Juan with awe as he ran away from her. She had the perfect chance to shoot him, the simple pull of a string and an arrow through his skull, he'd be dead, and she'd be in the final two, but she just couldn't bring herself to do it. She couldn't. So she simply turned her back, looking at the stain glass windows as he sprinted away. She walked over to the table Juan had found before her. She chomped on a flakey, perfect piece of Capitol bread and sipped on water. When she noticed the stack of envelopes addressed to her, her hands shook and she dropped the water, spilling it on the perfect wood floor. She reached forward, snatching up the envelopes and examining them.

When Irene recognized the writing on the first note, she tore it open excitedly, reading it with a beating heart.

Dear Irene,

We all miss you so much! Come home, sis! Dad isn't doing great, but he's holding on. I think it hurts him to see you in the Games. We miss you so much, and are rooting for you a whole lot! We finally got Dad a place in the hospital, but he's not much better. It's really hard to see the parts in the Games when you are fighting mutts and run into another tribute. We miss you, please come home!

John

Irene sighed. Her father was getting better. She opened the other letters from her brothers, which said practically the same things. Her six year old brother had pretty much said, I miss you, come home and play with me, Iry, as he called her. John, the oldest, had helped him write it. There was a whole page of notes from her friends at school, even people she didn't know.

Go Irene! We are all rooting for you!

-Julie A.

You rock Irene! We all hope you come home! It's bad enough Joe didn't, though no one liked him. Keep doing your thing with that bow!

-Steven R.

Come home, Irene! We all look forward to seeing you again!

-Stacey M.

Another envelope made Irene gasp. She looked down at the shaky writing, trying not to cry.

Irene, I'm not doing great, but I hope you come home. I wake up at 8:00 every morning, thinking you are still here only to find you aren't. Please come home, Irene, we all need you. I love you, no matter what happens.

Dad

A few teardrops fell onto the page, and Irene put it lovingly back in its envelope before it was ruined more. Her father was in the hospital, but okay. So good, he could write to her. He was alive, and doing okay. She sighed, smiling. That happiness of course couldn't last long, though. Footsteps alerted her, and Irene jumped up, holding her bow in front of her as the door to her right burst open.

Collista stood in the hall, not entering yet. She tapped her plate with a wooden stick and snatched up the knife. Irene groaned. Apparently her traps weren't so brilliant, if everyone could escape them. Collista began talking to her, and Irene vaguely heard what she said. She just replied without thinking, trying to imagine of a plan. She needed to kill Collista, she had to. But she hadn't killed before, and she wasn't sure if she could. She snapped into reality when Collista began jumping around the room on one foot.

Irene raised her bow, aiming at Collista, preparing herself to shoot, when Collista turned and tossed her knife. Irene blocked it with her bow, and when she looked back, Collista had her cane in her hands. They circled each other for what seemed like hours, until Irene shot Collista in the shoulder.

Irene's opponent seemed to break. She switched her knife to her other hand and sprinted towards Irene blindly. Her blade struck Irene's thigh, and both girls were in pain. They couldn't decide what to do. So Irene did the first that came to her mind. She raised her bow and shot another arrow. This one hit Collista in her stomach, and she fell back. She mumbled about something, but Irene couldn't focus. Irene leaned forward, looking at Collista with concern. What had she done?

Collista lashed out randomly, her knife getting stuck in Irene's forearm, and she stumbled back, grasping her arm, holding back tears.

Irene finally looked up from here wounds to see Collista shaking, and a cannon to go off in the silence. Irene's breathing was heavy, her heart felt as if it weighed a hundred pounds. She stumbled over to Collista, pressing her fingers into her neck and trying to ignore the blood that covered her.

No pulse met her fingertips.

Irene stepped back, trying not to cry. She had killed Collista. That poor girl was dead because of her.

Irene sniffled and looked up. "I'm sorry," she told her family. She hoped they'd forgive her, but she knew she'd never be able to forgive herself. As the hovercrafts came to collect the body, she felt disgusted with herself. "What have I done?" She whispered. "I'm a monster."

All of district 12 was huddled in the town square, hugging each other and cheering. Irene was in the final 2, and a person from district 12 hadn't been in the final two in over 25 years. She had a 50% chance of coming home!

Irene's family huddled in a dingy hospital room, watching the screen with new found excitement and worry. They knew Irene wouldn't be able to kill Juan, and he wouldn't be able to kill her. So she should be safe. But, hat if the Gamemakers sent mutts?

Dinnia, Martina and Edger stood from the small couch in their home, their faces masks of shock. Martina was crying, hugging her husband, and Dinnia was jumping around the room like a crazy person. "Juan could come home! He's in the final two!" She cheered. They hugged each other, praying he'd make it home, but they knew not how. He had promised them he'd never kill. They just hoped Irene liked him enough to not kill him.

Mika swiveled in her chair, muting the many televisions in front of her. She cast her evil-looking glare over her colleagues. "So, are we rigging this year?"

Bernadette looked up for her papers. "Well, have we rigged it yet this year?"

"We rigged Perry Leeman, everyone hated him in six. We rigged the fridge to kill whoever found the kitchen, and picked the sibling from eight. Also Irene, she was very popular, so the president chose her. We had poison in the courtyard; unfortunately that was one of Irene's skills. Then the mutts we sent. That's all," Mika replied. This had been a small year for rigs. They normally rigged the reaping balls once in every district and had many more mutts.

Ainslie looked up. "Wow, not much!"

Bernadette nodded. "I don't know. I think it will be interesting because Irene and Juan were allies."

Mika smiled, showing off her menacing teeth. "Well, how about we take a vote, who'd like to rig the winner?"

A few hands rose in the air, and names were thrown out by their owners.

"Juan!"

"Irene!"

"Definitely Juan."

"Juan!"

"Irene."

"Totally Irene!"

Mika looked around, nodding. "Okay, and who would like to just wait and see who wins?"

A flurry of hands shot up, and she nodded. "Okay, and after a few days, if we have to, Blair has an idea that will blow all of the other games out of the water. It will bring them together, and scare them out of their wits!" Mika said wickedly.

The Gamemakers all muttered their assent, and turned back to the screen to watch what would happen.

Chapter 19:

Wasting Away

Mika slapped the Capitol anthem button sourly; it had been another deathless day. It had been three whole nights since Collista Roseline had been killed by Irene, and Juan and Irene hadn't done hardly anything. They had killed a few small mutts, and Irene had taken down her traps, but overall it was… boring.

When Mika swiveled around in her chair, she caught at least four of her fellow gamemakers yawning. Bernadette tried to hide hers as she sat up. "So…"

Mika glared at her second-in-command; silencing her. "Don't say it." She turned to Blair, not backing down from his wild, animal-like frown. "I believe we have waited and tortured the Capitol people long enough, Blair. It is time we brought these kids together and ended these games."

The man in charge of mutts smirked. "Shall I send it in?"

Mika smiled back. "Yes, let's spice these games up a bit!" She turned to the other gamemakers who were not in on this conversation. They were all staring at her and Blair, confusion on their faces. She just smiled confidently. "Juan is in for a little confusion, and something to bring him to Irene."

Irene threw down the last of the ropes and matches, dropping the knives onto the growing pile. She was perspiring from this work that had been going on for day; she'd taken down all of the traps, for they hadn't worked anyway. She collapsed on the chair, trying to push her messy hair out of her eyes; but it was futile.

Irene lay back, closing her eyes with fatigue, only to open them in a hurry. She hadn't slept in two nights, but every breath she breathed, every beat of her heart and blink of her eyes haunted her. When ever she closed her eyes, instead of the inside of her eyelids, she saw Collista, frozen in death, two of Irene's arrows in her body.

As Irene lay there, staring at the ceiling, she felt an immense hatred for the Capitol. She knew she couldn't take what she'd done to Collista back, but she wanted to somehow show that she was sorry.

Irene stood, as if in a trance, her eyes scanning the room. She looked around the room, eying all of the spots of blood on the floor. She counted them, shedding a tear for each person who'd died in this room. There were so many. She counted eleven in all. Eight from the bloodbath, and one for Collista. The other two, Irene could only wonder about what happened.

Irene suddenly felt like she wanted to show the Capitol this was wrong. She wanted to make things right for these poor children who'd died fighting for their lives. She felt a horrible sadness for these kids. So she would make things better. She looked at the cornucopia that had reappeared, pawing through the things there. She found a few lone pieces of wood in the cornucopia, and almost scoffed. What could that be used for? But she had a use for it now. She made small, makeshift crosses, and for those whose names she knew, she carved it into the wood. She wrapped rope around the tops like wreaths, and then looked around the room. Eleven crosses stood over the blood stains, and she felt better. She looked up, offering these children to heaven. Then, she glared at the Capitol, looking straight at the president. "These kids didn't need to die! It will never be better."

She lay on the couch, and for once when she closed her eyes, the vision of Collista was not so bright, not so haunting. Irene smiled in her sleep, holding her bow tightly. She could doze.

Moxie Baudette looked at the screen excitedly, squealing as Juan Pierre appeared again. Her sister Adrianne rolled her eyes, annoyed. "What's your deal with him anyway? There's no way he'll win!"

Moxie glared at her. "Yes there is! He's sweet and cute, and I'm sponsoring him! Remember, Dad gave me money this year to sponsor someone! I've been sponsoring him from the start!"

Adrianne groaned; she'd heard this spiel a hundred times. Moxie grinned triumphantly as a little parachute floated down, settling in Juan's hands. He tore it open, finding water, apples, and granola bars. He began to dig in hungrily; he had begun to run out of his own food, he had had to savor it carefully.

Moxie squealed again. "That was mine! That was my gift!"

Adrianne just lay back on the plush couch. "You know Irene is going to win. I sponsored her since the beginning."

"We'll see," Moxie replied.

Juan lay back, knowing even though it had been three days since a cannon rang out, there was no way he could be calm in the Games. And he was totally smart to feel that way.

Juan heard something that didn't belong here, and he jumped up, looking around confused. A tiny little dog stood before him, yipping as if afraid. Juan jumped up, holding his knife. The little thing didn't look like a mutt, but it totally could be. He was unsure, but when the puppy began skipping away, he had no choice but to run. He didn't want to be caught in some kind of trap. When he skidded around a corner, he tripped over the little dog again. "What the?"

Juan turned and ran the other way, but this kept occurring. Juan kept running. At one point, he looked back to see if the dog was trailing him, and ran straight on into a door. Juan stumbled back from the door, holding back a squeal. He was back by the cornucopia, and about to walk into the room. He looked around, settling back onto his feet from his tip-toes. The weight plate was gone, as well as the rope. He walked forward, gasping as he saw what had become.

Around the room, sticking up from the floor were several crudely made, wooden crosses with rope around them. All of them stood on floor that was stained reddish-brown with blood, and some had names in them. Juan walked among the crosses somberly, feeling as if this was a cemetery. He froze as he found one reading 'Collista Roseline'. So it was down to him and Irene. Only then did the soft snoring register. He crept around the cornucopia to find that Irene lay on the couch, asleep. He frowned, knowing he should go stab her right now, to kill her and be done with the games. But he couldn't do it. He began to walk away, and as he did, he ran into a medium sized pile, knocking over the shield lying on top. It clattered to the floor, and Irene woke with a start.

Irene waved her bow in the air, screaming before she even was awake. "What- who's there?" She screamed. Then, she spotted Juan, and her face fell. She let the bow fall to her side. "Well… I guess the Gamemakers finally brought us together. I guess… this is where it ends."

Juan nodded nervously, snatching up the medieval looking sheild and holding it awkwardly in front of him. "I guess so…"

Irene looked at him worriedly. "Juan, I have to get home…"

"Irene, do you think I don't? What about the others who've died already? Do you think they didn't have family?" Juan said cruelly.

Irene frowned. "Of course not, Juan. But- my dad. He's sick and I have to get home to him. I'm sorry." She raised her bow to shoot, but closed her eyes and lowered her arm. "Why can't I do it?" She muttered to herself. But of course she knew why. She just didn't want to admit it.

Juan looked just as sad and confused as Irene. He'd never killed, and he'd promised he wouldn't. But how could he come this far and not go home? He looked at Irene. "I can't kill you. But apparently you can kill me. So just do it." He dropped the shield, holding out his arms. Irene had a clear shot straight at his heart, but she didn't shoot.

"Juan, I can't kill you either." She sat back on the couch, and Juan uncertainly walked to stand by her. "I don't want to die by mutts. What do we do?"

Juan shrugged. "I don't know, Irene." They sat, and Juan handed Irene an apple. They sat there comfortably, as if they weren't the last to people in these games, supposed to kill each other. As if they were life long friends, hanging out at home. But of course they weren't. And the gamemakers hadn't brought them together so they could talk. They could tell they weren't going to kill each other, so they did the only thing they could.

Knives began to fall from the ceiling, and Juan scurried over to the shield he'd dropped, holding it over his head as Irene crawled under the couch. "How many did you mount up there?" He demanded.

"I didn't! I took them all down!" Irene screamed back, flinching with every thud of a knife hitting the plush.

Juan stood from his crouching position, still keeping the shield over his head. Every second there were two or more clangs, signaling to him that the knives were still falling. "I'm getting out of here!" He screamed. But as he approached the exit, the door blended into the wall and something began seeping out of the cracks. The awkward substance was bright green and coming fast.

Juan backed away from the wall, lowering the shield as the clangs stopped. When he looked up, he saw the substance was coming in from the ceiling too. "Irene!" Juan said.

Irene crawled out of under the couch, turning around screaming. Juan started to go see what was wrong, when he noticed it, and fear clutched his heart. The goop was crawling up Irene's leg, seeming alive. Irene clutched her thigh, kicking free and stumbling over to Juan. Together, the stood in the center of the room as the stuff came in waves towards them, coming closer in closer. It curled around the edges, then began creeping across the floor.

The substance practically picked up some of the weapons farther away, hurling them towards Juan and Irene. A few knives skimmed them, and a stray arrow got stuck in Juan's thigh. Irene cried out as a knife tore a bandage off her forearm. It had not been bleeding, but as the blade scratched at it, the new scab that had been forming was torn away, and she started bleeding again.

Some of the discarded weapons were eaten up by the substance, disappearing. The couch was sucked away, and weapons continued flying through the air.

Juan looked around desperately. He pointed to the inside of the cornucopia, which Irene had picked away at, throwing most of the supplies around the room. They ran towards it, climbing over the small pile of remaining supplies, until they were inside it. They stood there in sanctuary, thinking they were safe, until a sword flew towards them, striking the metal wall of the cornucopia.

Juan looked around. Inside, the walls were smooth; there was no way to climb it. Anyway, some of the substance was starting to creep into the cornucopia, crawling down the walls. More weapons were shot at them, and a club smacked Juan's shoulder. He held it, crying out in pain. But he knew he'd had worse. The goop was beginning to creep towards them on the floor, trying to catch them.

"Juan! What do we do?" Irene cried desperately.

"I don't know!" Juan replied.

Right then, more knives and other weapons came towards them. A spear lodged itself in Juan's upper arm, and he cried out. But still more weapons were coming. He tried to dodge as many as he could, but next to him, Irene had crumpled to the ground.

Juan grabbed Irene's elbow, trying to keep her up. "What's wrong?" He cried, still dodging the weapons. He couldn't look at her now.

Irene choked out the words. "It hit me! A sword!" She gasped.

Juan looked down, exasperated. Fear clutched him when he saw the line of red across Irene's white shirt, on her stomach. But it hadn't gotten lodged there, she was still okay. She may be able to survive.

But the weapons kept coming. Now it was Juan's turn to be hurt. It was as if the Gamemakers were trying to torture them both until one died. A knife came at him, lodging in his stomach. He tried not to cry, as the substance was right above their heads. The rest of the weapons were swallowed up, and the substance came through the opening of the cornucopia, creeping around the edges, entrapping the two in a green cage. They began being forced inward, and a wall began forming between Juan and Irene. "Juan! I don't want to die this way!" Irene cried out.

Juan nodded. "Me either!" he gripped his knife. "On three!"  
>Irene nodded, fear in her eyes. "One!"<p>

"Two."

"Three!" they said. Then, Juan threw a knife and Irene fired an arrow as the wall closed up, pushing in on them. Both remaining tributes were swallowed up.

Mika kept the surround cameras in the substance trained on Irene and Juan, unsure who was going to win. She looked at the screen in interest, this creation was brilliant.

Both children were very close to death, both had deadly wounds on their stomachs, both were bleeding profusely. It seemed Juan was worse off than Irene, what with the knife lodged way up in his ribcage. But as they were both being squished and disappearing in the substance, the winner could be either of them. Mika kept her hand over the bright red button, ready to smack it the second a cannon went off and rescue the victor so they could live. The substance was squishing both Irene and Juan. Their weapons disappeared into the material, and it began creeping up their arms and legs. Mika put her palm on the button, sweating. And as she watched, the final cannon went off, and there was a winner.

Chapter 20

The Victor

The crowd sat on the edge of their seats, waiting for the victor to appear out of the floor. They began cheering and shouting the victor's name, screaming as a head appeared, someone almost unrecognizable from when they were in the games.

Juan Pierre emerged out of the floor, on the metal plate, looking a million years older than thirteen. His dark hair, which has been dull and ratty in the games was slicked back and shiny to perfection. His face, which had been sallow and thin was plumper, his skin clean and nice. But it was still haunted. He had on a nice suit, but underneath, he had a horrible gash in his stomach, a cut on his arm and a bruised shoulder. But he was even more hurt inside. Luckily he didn't have to talk tonight.

The new host, Atticus Thorne, welcomed him, his smiling, surgically altered face looked too nice and too cold at the same time. Juan nodded curtly, sitting in the plush chair, pushing down the urge to cover his face with his hands as the highlights started. Daniel and Dalton volunteering to save their girlfriends, Joey going into the games for his sister, and Irene being reaped. This hit him like a pang in the chest. Next came the interviews. Juan seemed like a totally different person. Still happy, never scarred. His face was plump, worried. But not haunted.

Finally, the actual games started. Juan finally saw how his opponents had died, and he wished he hadn't. Later, he saw him run into Perry Leeman, and flee. He saw Skyler be poisoned, and Rebecca being devoured by mutts. He saw Joey commit suicide, and himself fall from a tree. Irene's face loomed into view on the screen, and he saw them becoming friends. They talked, fought the mutts and hung out together. They cooked meals and had fun, almost. The Capitol was making him relive these games.

Juan watched as Scott Daze was dying, and Saphire held him, crying. Scott said something about his sister needing surgery, and he felt a pang of sadness for this girl, Lexi. He promised himself, even though he couldn't make this better, he'd save Lexi, if he could. He had to. He wanted to make things right.

After a while, it was down to the final four. Saphire was killed by the robots, and Juan saw Collista defeat them, by smacking them over the head with a wooden bowl. He would've found it funny, except she was dead. Irene killed Collista, and then Juan burst in.

Juan shivered, feeling horrible and claustrophobic as he watched Irene's final moments. Irene died, and he was alive.

Juan put his head in his hands. Why was he here? Why was he the one who'd survived while Irene had died? He knew Irene and him had decided to throw those weapons. They'd agreed they wouldn't die of suffocation from the substance, but he still felt like he'd killed her, done her wrong. As the crowd began screaming, Juan just couldn't wait for them to leave, and the lights to go off. He couldn't wait to be home with his sister and parents.

Juan sat down in the chair, across from Atticus Thorne, who smiled helpfully. "Are you ready?"

Juan shook his head. "No, but I guess I kind of have to be."

Atticus smiled wanly. The camera man peered out from behind the camera. "We're ready!" He counted down from five, and a red light shined showing Juan that the whole of Panem was watching.

"So, Juan! How are you?" Atticus said.

"How is anyone who wins the games?" Juan said. "Tired, guilty."

Atticus shrugged. "So, Juan. Since the day you were reaped, the odds seemed against you. Were you just purposely bad to get a low score in training to throw the others off?"

Juan shrugged. "I'm not good with weapons. I showed them how I could find which berry was poisonous, then sat and waited for them to dismiss me."

Atticus nodded. "So, what would you say your plan was from the start?"

"Find food and run," Juan said simply. "That was all I could do."

"Would you say that plan was ruined when Irene found you?" Atticus asked.

"Ruined?" Juan hissed. "_Ruined? _No, more like got better. She saved my life. We had a nice time. We survived the mutts together, figured out how to make weapons. Then the Gamemakers tricked us back inside. Now she's dead. Irene will be part of me forever, she'll always be in my heart, and every time I close my eyes I will see her face. No matter how much people tell me we agreed to kill each other, I will always blame myself for her death. So no, my plan was no _ruined._" He spat.

Atticus looked abashed. He nodded. "I'm sorry."

Juan just glared.

"So!" Atticus said moving on. "What were you thinking when you fought that robot Skyler Grey?"

"I really wasn't thinking. I was freaking out and totally confused when I saw her, then when I realized it was a robot, I was just trying to find out how to destroy it. Then when I heard what Bubba said, I guessed there would be more robots, so I took the soup with me."

"Wow. So, as it got farther in the games, you gained quite a few fans and sponsors! What do you want to say to them?" Atticus asked.

"What else?" Juan said. "Thank you. Thanks to them for sending me gifts, thanks to my mentor for sending them in at just the right moments."

"You seem like a very calm, peace lover sort of person. How did you handle the games?"

"I didn't! I may look fine on the outside, but on the inside I was freaking out. And just watching all those deaths, I feel like I want to make things right." Juan said. He looked right at the camera. "Which is why I'm going to try and grant some of the last wishes. I want to give money to the Daze family, to save their daughter Lexi from her cancer. I want to give some of my winnings to Irene's family. She was my best friend. She saved my butt a million times. It is the least I can do."

Atticus' eyes widened. "Well, that's… great. Thank you. Ladies and gentleman, the victor of the 102nd Hunger Games; Juan Pierre!"


End file.
